


(Un)conventional love.

by Readingfanfics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Actor Sherlock Holmes, Alternate Universe, Crazy fan, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Some light angst, fan greg lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: Greg Lestrade broke up with his boyfriend Andy after he found out Andy cheated on him. To clear his mind, and get him outside, Amelia, his best friend and coworker at the Yard, drags him to a convention of Boyfriend Tales, a show Greg has watched to distract himself from his pain and hurt.There he comes face to face with the star of the show, Sherlock Holmes and an unconventional friendship starts between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been showing sneak peeks of this story for a while on my Tumblr and now it's finally time to start posting it here. This will be a weekly update ( there are 11 chapters), beta'd by my friend beltainefaerie. (Thank you Bel for your excellent work as always.) This started as a 'what if you go to a convention and for some reason, you stand out to the actor and you become friends.' 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr on: writingfanficsfan.tumblr.com

\--Chapter 1--

“This is stupid. We should leave.”

 

“No, what's stupid is that you are considering leaving after paying 50 pounds and waiting in that huge line just to get inside!”

 

“I'm the oldest person here,  Amelia . Why did I let you drag me into this?” Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair as they finally made their way inside the hall. 

 

“You are not the oldest person here.” Amelia stated, looking left and right to try to find evidence for her claim. Greg raised an eyebrow when the moment lasted too long, Amelia flashing him a smile before giving him a half hug. 

 

“Okay, maybe you are the oldest person here. So what?” 

 

“I feel like a creep. Those teenage girls are giving me dirty looks.” Greg gestured towards his left, the girls turning away from him when Amelia waved at them. 

 

“Oh, come on, Greg. They're teenagers! They give everyone over 20 dirty looks. Now come on, let's find this actor you're hot for.” 

 

“I'm not hot for him!” Greg called after Amelia as she took him by the hand and dragged him over to the autograph section. It had sounded like a great idea last week when Amelia suggested they visit the  Boyfriend Tales convention. A chance to get outside the flat and think about something else for a few hours. Now, looking around and seeing all these young and bright-eyed faces, Greg just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. 

 

Greg suppressed a sigh when he noticed how long the autograph line was. It was hardly a surprise, Sherlock Holmes was the only reason he kept watching Boyfriend Tales afterall. Not that the show was horrible but some storylines and plots were just too over the top, even for a fantasy show. 

 

“Right.” Amelia winked at him as they stopped at the end of the line and Greg huffed when she gave him a teasing look.

 

“I just think he's a good actor.”

 

“Of course. And you had no idea about the curly black hair, the ridiculous cheekbones or that firm arse up until now?”

 

“Okay, we are leaving!” Greg started turning around, getting disapproving looks from the teenagers that had already cued up behind them. Seriously, were they the only adults here? Amelia pulled him back by his arm, her laugh warm and genuine as she looked at him with sparkling blue eyes. The sound lifted some of his sadness, making him feel lighter than seconds before and he gently shook his head, bumping her shoulder playfully. He could never stay mad at her for long. They'd known each other for over 10 years now, but the look in her eyes made him swallow, suddenly feeling exposed and ridiculous. 

 

“This is a good thing, Greg. You can't hide away in your flat forever.” She nudged him, noticing his changed expression and Greg nodded, blinking his eyes to stop the upcoming tears. There was only understanding and compassion in her voice and Greg took her hand, squeezing it once as he gave a tiny smile. 

 

“What  Andy did to you was horrible. You didn't deserve it.” Amelia's voice grew stern, eyes scanning Greg's face as they shuffled a few steps forward. 

 

Deep down he knew she was right, but part of him was still playing it over in his head. Trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. He knew his job at the Yard didn't make it easy, sometimes being caught up in different cases, working late to finish paperwork for upcoming inspections. Andy hadn't complained once and now Greg knew why. His late nights and strange shifts were the perfect cover for Andy to cheat on him. 

 

“Greg, you didn't deserve that, okay. The way he treated you-” Amelia squeezed his hand, her eyes a fraction darker and Greg felt nothing but grateful to have her as a friend. She'd been the first person he'd gone to when Andy had kicked him out. The look on her face when Greg had told her what happened had send a shiver down his spine. 

 

_ “That cheating bastard! How dare he!” _

 

One simple text had changed everything for Greg, heart breaking into a million pieces as he'd seen John's name behind the message. Maybe he could have forgiven Andy if it had been any other person but Andy with John? No. He still felt sick when he thought about them together, his boyfriend with his best friend. He hadn't even been looking for evidence, hadn't known something was up till that incoming text while Andy was in the shower. He'd just been reaching for something on the same table when the text had come in, screaming and mocking him. 

 

**Had a great time last night, baby. See you Saturday? Love John X**

 

The fights that followed had been ugly, Andy holding him responsible for his cheating, making it look like it was Greg's fault for not being home enough, not wanting to have sex enough, not taking care of his appearance anymore, actually calling him chubby. It had left Greg speechless and broken. He really hadn't seen it coming and there was an irony to that he didn't want to acknowledge.

 

Wasn't he supposed to know when people were holding something back? Wasn't it his job to know when people were lying or being untrue? How could he be a good Detective when he'd been lied to for over a year? The whole thing had messed with his mind, making it difficult to concentrate on work. He felt like a fraud, worried people would find out he didn't know what he was doing and they'd sack him. 

 

The first weeks after Andy had left, Greg had driven himself almost mad, going over every little detail in their relationship. Every little remark, every detail that seemed meaningless he'd let play on repeat in his mind, hating himself but unable to stop it.  Thank god for Amelia, she'd been there in his darkest moments, stopping him from doing stupid things like drunk calling Andy at 3 in the morning. He still didn't know how to repay her for it. Even now, after months of being miserable and angry, she was still on his side. Going with him to a convention of a show she didn't even like. 

 

“Oh, Greg. It's going to be fine.” Amelia hugged him tightly before handing him a tissue, Greg's cheeks flaming up as he wiped away a few tears. 

 

“What would I do without you, Lia?” Greg whispered, blinking his eyes a few times, seeing the light blush on his friend’s face before she gave a smile. 

 

“Let's just enjoy today, okay?” Amelia answered, rummaging around in her purse to hide her face. She wasn't the best at accepting compliments and Greg gave her time to control herself again, touching up her lipstick. 

 

“We have a weekend off for once, nobody nagging us about work or meetings or paperwork.  There is no reason for you to not meet this Sherlock Holmes and tell him you like his work. Or his arse.”

 

“Amelia.” Greg sighed, seeing the shock on some people's faces nearby, but he couldn't stop a grin when he saw the sparkle in his friend's eyes. They moved forward again, the line seeming to be just as long as 10 minutes ago. People were chatting around them, some wearing Boyfriend Tales shirts and hats and Greg let himself relax, pushing Andy and John from his mind. Today was about him and Amelia and having a good time and he smiled at her, Amelia nodding at him with approval. 

 

“Just kidding, Greg. Besides, I have a feeling this Holmes fellow already knows he has a great arse. Have you seen how tight his pants are?” 

 

“I'm going to ignore you for the rest of the day if you keep talking like that.”

 

“Oh please, 80% of the people here have at least dreamed about having sex with him once.” Amelia shrugged a shoulder when a couple of teenagers gave her a weird, half shocked, look. That's what he liked about her, she didn't care what people thought about her, always being herself and speaking her mind. Not that Amelia was cruel or rude, she would never hurt someone on purpose but sometimes her mouth worked faster then her brain. 

 

“Let's be honest, the show isn't that great.” 

 

“You're going to get us kicked out.” Greg whispered, pulling Amelia next to him as the line moved again, not meeting the accusing eyes of the people in front of him. Some fans were real die-hards, not happy with any form of critique towards the show or the actors. 

 

“Why are there only teenagers here?”

 

“Don't be so dramatic, there are older people here too.” Amelia responded, pointing behind her.

“Those people are barely grown up!” Greg hissed, feeling old and stupid as he looked around the lines. There were some 20 somethings standing in line, even a few elderly people now that he'd taken the time to look properly, but Greg still felt out of place. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if people guessed he was older because of the grey streaks in it. 

 

“Come on Greg, you're 33 , not 90.  According to wikipedia, this  Sherlock fellow is 29 , though he looks younger. Don't you think?” 

 

Greg hummed, smoothing out his shirt as they walked forward. They were now close enough to see the top of Sherlock's head and Greg's stomach dropped as he saw the curls bounce up and down as the man moved. It was just like in the show. 

 

“Do you think it's frustrating? Having to play a 19-year-old when you're actually 29? Oh! I can see his head! We're almost there!” 

 

“Not so loud!' Greg whispered, feeling his face flame up as some people turned to look at them. Amelia didn't seem to notice, fidgeting in her purse as she muttered to herself. 

 

“I'm sure I have one with me- Where is it? Damn, if I don't- Ah! Here it is!”

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Greg asked, watching Amelia as she held up a pen like it was a trophy. 

 

“You need a pen, Greg.”

 

“Why would I need a pen?”

 

“For writing down your number, of course!” She thrusted it into his hands, smiling from ear to ear as the line moved forward. Greg heard some people mutter behind him and he felt his face get warm. He'd never liked being the center of attention and he felt glued to the floor, standing their like an idiot with the pink pen in his hands. 

 

“What- what are you talking about, Amelia? Why would I give him my number?”

 

“Why not?” Amelia looked at him like he was the crazy one. “You're an attractive guy, Greg. Just because Andy was stupid enough to treat you like dirt doesn't mean you aren’t. This Holmes fellow would be lucky to have you. You have a steady job, you're kind and compassionate and from what I remember on my 15th birthday you're an excellent kisser. I assume you’ve only gotten better since.”

 

“Amelia, can you please stop?” Greg placed a hand on her arm, handing her back the pen and feeling like a bastard for killing the light in her eyes. He knew she meant well, but listing off all his supposedly good qualities was just dragging him down. If what she was saying was true then why was he alone again? Why did Andy feel the need to go somewhere else, lying behind his back, sleeping with his best friend? 

 

“Greg,” Amelia looked at him with sorrow in her eyes and his heart broke. He took her hand, placing a kiss on it before letting go, trying to give her a smile but failing. 

 

“I didn't mean- I'm sorry. I don't want to embarrass you, I just. I hate seeing you like this.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Unsure.” Amelia whispered, her expression serious before her eyes went to the floor, her voice level as she talked. 

 

“I hate that Andy made you question yourself. That you somehow think it's your fault. It's not!” Amelia took his hand again, squeezing it firmly and Greg again wondered what he would do without her.  “Andy is an idiot for letting you go. You're a good man, Greg. Patient, kind, loyal, not to mention that hair drives everyone wild for you.”

 

“Oh, shut up!” Greg laughed, his cheeks getting warm as Amelia tried to ruffle up his hair. He'd gone gray around the age of 26, horrified and upset, doing his best to dye it back to his natural color. He could never get the right shade and in the end it was just too much hassle. Amelia had convinced him it wasn't as awful as he thought, informing him some of their colleagues even called him Silver Fox, so he'd stopped hiding it. Much to Andy's disapproval. 

 

“I swear, you look super sexy with gray hair, if I wasn't a lesbian, I'd date you. Silver Fox.”

 

“You're a disaster.” Greg smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Thank you.” 

 

“Anytime, Greg. Now, are you sure about not giving your number, cause-”

 

“Don't push it.” 

 

There were only three people in front of them now, two teenagers and a man around Greg's age. Every now and then, he caught a glimpse of Sherlock and suddenly Greg's stomach lurched. He felt nervous and out of place. He was a social guy, able to small talk with almost anyone but the prospect of standing just a few inches away from Sherlock Holmes was making it hard for Greg to think. What did you say to an actor? An actor who was so beautiful it was almost surreal? An actor you'd dreamed about a few times during your lonely nights, imagining him in your bed, wrapped in your arms as you kissed as if the world was ending. 

 

“Oh, it's almost our turn, Greg!” Amelia shook his arm, excited for him like a kid on Christmas. Greg's mind went in circles, trying to figure out what to say to the man. 

 

_ Hey, I started watching your show cause my partner of 8 years cheated on me with my best friend and I was lonely and pathetic and your voice is really soothing? Also, by the way, I’ve mastrubated thinking of you in the shower. _

 

He was ready to turn around and flee but then the person in front of them moved and Greg's feet were glued to the floor as Sherlock Holmes held out a glossy photo of himself to the man in front of him. 

 

“And you should really take better care of your wedding ring if you don't want your wife to know you're cheating on her with the babysitter.”

 

“I- I'm not-”

 

“Sherlock, for god's sake.” Greg took a step to the left, seeing the man sitting next to Sherlock, a scowl on his face as he took the photo out off Sherlock's hands and handed it to the befumbled fan. 

 

“Never mind my brother. He's in a bit of a mood. Have a nice day.”

 

“How much longer do I need to be here, Mycroft?”

 

“As long as it's needed, Sherlock.”

 

“But they are all either teenagers or stupid.”

 

Greg couldn't stop a snort from coming out at that, and two pairs of sharp eyes were suddenly taking him in. His heart did a flip and a drop, his gaze captured by Sherlock Holmes. He'd never been able to figure out the man's eye color, since they seemed blue in some pictures and green or hazel in others, so he'd looked it up online. The man actually had something called sectoral heterochromia, which meant his irises each had different colors, in this case blue and green with a little patch of brown in the right. Greg'd never admit it to anyone, but he'd spent a fair bit of time looking at photos of Sherlock's eyes, mesmerized by all the colors they contained.  It was nothing compared to the real thing and he tumbled back to earth when Amelia cleared her throat loudly, giving him a not so gentle poke in his side.

 

“I love your arse- I mean work! I love your work!”

 

“Very smooth, Greg.” 

 

If he could dig a hole to disappear in it, Greg would have done it by now. He could feel Amelia poke him in his side but Greg wasn't able to speak. His face flushed as he felt Sherlock's eyes taking him in and, after risking a glance, Greg was fairly sure the man wasn't angry or offended by his slip up. 

 

“Thank you for the compliments.” 

 

Sherlock's smooth voice jolted him out of his terror and when their eyes met, some of Greg's anxiety disappeared, seeing the beginning of a smile on the man's mouth before he extended his hand in greeting. 

 

“Sherlock Holmes. But you know that already.”

 

“G-Greg Lestrade,” Greg cleared his throat as he accepted the offered hand, shaking it like a moron as Sherlock kept looking at him with an amused expression. “I'm a big fan of your work.”

 

“Yes, I gathered that.” 

 

There was a moment of silence in which Greg's face flamed up even more and Sherlock's smile seemed to grow and then Greg snapped out of his stupor, reaching for Amelia and taking her hand. 

 

“This is my friend Amelia. We've been watching Boyfriend Tales since the start and it just keeps getting better.” 

 

“Well, I don't really-” Amelia started to say as she shook Sherlock's hand but she stopped when Greg coughed, rolling her eyes at him instead. Greg's face blush depened, but Sherlock just smiled at her as she stepped back, glancing at the man to Sherlock's right.

 

“My brother and babysitter, Mycroft. He's here to prevent me from slipping out.” Sherlock waved to his brother, a dismissive tone in his voice as his eyes stayed on Greg. Greg felt them as he greeted Mycroft, very aware of how close he was to the Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft didn't comment on his brother's words but he did pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly before saying hello to Greg and Amelia. It was hard not to keep a straight face as the brother's bickered without words to each other and Greg felt Amelia give his hand a squeeze, amusement in her eyes. Thank god she was there.

 

“Do you want an autograph? You can choose any photo you like, they're free.” Sherlock spoke up, grabbing Greg's attention and Greg looked down at the photos in front of them. Of course they were all in black and white, Sherlock dressed to perfection, beautiful in a non-traditional way. 

 

“Oh, that's-”

 

“Actually my friend wanted to give you his nu-”

 

“Amelia, no!” Greg placed a hand over her mouth, horrified and on the verge of a panic attack. Being up close and personal with Sherlock Holmes was stressful enough without his best friend trying to set him up. The man was an actor for God's sake! An actor whose star to fame was rising fast. He gave Amelia a half pleading, half stern look before removing his hand from her mouth, turning to Sherlock to apologize and then run when the man handed him one of his photos, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

 

“T-Thank you. Let's go.” 

 

Greg stepped to the side, slightly hurt and disappointed. This meet and greet hadn't gone liked he'd planned and he was sure he would replay it in his mind on loop for the rest of the weekend. At least there was a good chance Sherlock wouldn't remember him by tonight. The man would meet so many fans today, it was hard to remember them all, even the idiot ones with the crazy friends. 

 

“Greg, I'm-” Amelia started to whisper, taking hold of his hand tightly before Sherlock's voice filled the air. 

 

“Lestrade.” 

 

His feet stopped moving before he could even think about it, turning his head back to watch Sherlock. The man gestured at him to come back, much to the shock and jealousy of the people waiting in line. Amelia smiled at him insecuringly, giving him a gentle nudge to move. 

 

“You work as a policeman.” Sherlock looked at him knowingly, a pleased smile on his face when Greg nodded like an idiot.  “H-how do you-”

 

“It's fairly obvious.” Sherlock gave a smile, not explaining further and his brother wasn't much help either, just watching Sherlock with curiosity. Greg could hear the people behind him whisper but Sherlock didn't seem to care, eyes fixed on Greg as he tapped his fingers on the table. It was on untold convention rule that you didn't keep up the line, begging for more attention from the actor by babbling on about your love for the show, how it had changed your life. It rarely happened that the uphold came from the other side and Greg could feel all eyes on them as Sherlock started speaking again, his voice soft so only Greg and his brother could hear. 

 

“There's a small chance I'll be able to play in a detective show that's set in future London. The script isn't terrible and from what I can observe, they have the procedures fairly spot on. But, I'm not an expert and I want the opinion from someone who knows what he's talking about.” 

 

“O-Okay?” Greg frowned, not really sure why Sherlock was bringing this up. 

 

“When I take on a role I try to add as much realism as possible. Oh, shut up, Mycroft.” Greg's eyes caught the last of the man's smirk and eyeroll before he focused on Sherlock again. Clearly, realism wasn't a factor in his current show as it dealt with vampires, witches and zombies but Greg had read articles online about Sherlock's work ethic and it was impressive to say the least. He was picky about his projects, much to the irritation of his brother/agent, and anything that was set in real life had to be at least 80% accurate for him to take on the job. After that he usual spend time with people who either did the job his character would do, or had expert knowledge about it. He asked a lot of questions, to the point of obsessive, looking for ways to improve his performances with little details most people missed.

 

“Can you help me, Lestrade?” Greg blinked his eyes, needing an embarrassing amount of time to process what Sherlock had just asked and then coming up with an answer that made him sound intelligent. 

 

“I-I could get you in contact with my Chief. I can't promise he'll be available right away but-”

 

“No.” Sherlock held up a hand and Greg stopped speaking, mouth half open like a loon for a moment before catching himself and snapping it shut. 

 

Mycroft leaned forward to whisper something in his brother's ear and Greg couldn't suppress a smile when Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance, tilting his head to the side to observe the length of the line behind Greg. 

 

“Will you be here all day?”

 

“I.” Greg stopped, looking at Amelia, her bright smile all the answer he needed. 

 

“Yes. We'll be here for a while.” 

 

“Good. Mycroft.” The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds, seeming to share a whole conversation in just that glance before Sherlock handed him a small cream-colored card. Disbelief and excitement was palpable from the crowd behind him when he took it from Sherlock's fingers. Greg suppressed a shiver of excitement when their fingers brushed together. He’d always had a thing for Sherlock’s fingers. It was front and center in most of his fantasies, wondering how they would feel as they explored Greg’s skin. The harsh light of the venue made Sherlock's fingers almost seem white, a sharp contrast to Greg’s own more tanned ones. He swallowed when he noticed Sherlock’s brother taking him in sharply. 

 

“Come to the backstage section after the panel and show this card to the guard. He'll let you in. Both of you.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Greg looked down at the card, bewildered, not sure if this was really happening to him or if it was a very realistic dream. 

 

“I suggest you move now, Lestrade. People are getting impatient.” Greg looked up at Sherlock's amused face before looking behind him at the jealous faces of other fans. He stuttered some words in goodbye, relieved when Amelia took a step closer and dragged him away to a less crowded section of the convention. The card was still in his hands and Amelia pointed to it, confusion and excitement in her eyes. 

“What happened?”

 

“I... I have no idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ 3 months later _

“You've been avoiding me.”

 

Greg held his breath for a second as Sherlock Holmes looked at him, his intense eyes  examining him closely . For some reason, he had the insane desire to hold in his stomach and stand straighter. He looked over the man's shoulder, surprised by the fact that he was alone. Since he’d finished Boyfriend Tales and started in his first movie  Cold Water four months later, he'd mostly seen the man accompanied by his brother, or his assistant Anthea. Greg sometimes wondered how Sherlock dealt with the constant attention and being in the spotlight. It seemed he couldn’t even sneeze without someone tweeting about it. 

 

“I’m off my leash for tonight.” Sherlock smiled as he met Greg’s gaze and Greg’s heart did a somersault. He gripped the doorknob tighter. He was flushed, even his hands warmed and he’d only spoken to Sherlock for five seconds. 

 

_ Get a grip, Lestrade! _

 

“I- How do you know where I live?” Greg asked, shielding his flat from view with his body as Sherlock took him in. Greg always forgot how piercing that gaze was, how it glued him to the floor and made it challenging to think. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders before answering. 

 

“I asked around. Can I come inside?”

 

Sherlock's voice was soft and warm and Greg was already stepping backward before he could really think about it. Sherlock walked past him, nodding his head in thanks and Greg let out his breath. He looked left and right on the street before closing the door and following Sherlock further inside. 

 

“Don’t worry. Nobody has followed me here. I’ve learned a thing or two in the past few years. Your place looks nice.”

 

Greg mumbled a thank you as he watched Sherlock standing there. He felt nervous and exposed as Sherlock's eyes went over his flat, a tiny smile appearing when he noticed the funko pop of himself as  Dr. Jack Steward , the character he played in Boyfriend Tales. Greg felt blood rush to his cheeks as Sherlock went closer, picking it up and raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“Amelia got it for me.”

 

Sherlock didn't comment but Greg saw the tiny smile on the man's face when he placed the figurine back on the bookshelf before taking a closer look at Greg's book collection. It wasn't that huge, mostly consisting of thrillers and some real crime, but Sherlock took his time to watch the spines, making an approving sound with some of the titles. 

 

“Why are you here, Sherlock?” 

 

His voice sounded too loud in the space of his flat, his heart racing when Sherlock turned and pinned him down with that piercing gaze of his. 

 

“Like I said, you've been avoiding me.”

 

“I haven't-”

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him and Greg closed his mouth, willing himself to stand still and not avoid Sherlock's knowing look. It was surreal, having Sherlock stand in the middle of his living space. Intimidating and slightly terrifying, as if Sherlock would know everything about him by just looking at his flat and the belongings in it. For one crazy moment he wanted to know what Sherlock saw but that desire quickly disappeared. He doubted the man would have any positive to say about him. Compared to Sherlock, Greg was mundane and boring. Barely a policeman, let alone one that could help the actor, a fact he’d pointed out several times over the past few months since he’d been allowed backstage to talk about Sherlock’s upcoming police show but the man was stubborn to a fault. 

 

The Chief had placed Sherlock with at least three different DI’s but there was always something that went wrong and Greg got a call from Sherlock’s brother and a trip to the Chief’s office to smooth things out. 

 

Greg gestured for Sherlock to sit down on the sofa, noticing how elegantly the man moved. Greg chose to sit on the sofa opposite Sherlock, still feeling off kilter as Sherlock crossed his legs and made himself at home. 

 

“You’ve had a few talks with Sally, right? I know the previous partnerships haven’t exactly gone smoothly.” Sherlock gave a snort at that but Greg ignored it. “But maybe it will be better now that you have more time. How did it go? Was she able to answer your questions?” Greg’s eyes followed the line of Sherlock’s legs. They went on for days. He blinked his eyes to stop himself from staring more, skin prickling as Sherlock watched him, a tiny frown between his eyes. 

 

“She was adequate, yes.” 

 

“But?” Greg prompted, heart sinking as Sherlock let out a sigh. Greg really thought this time it would work. He’d recommended Sally to the Chief when DI Gregson had refused to continue to work with Sherlock due to his crazy work schedule and a minor disagreement about police procedure during a kidnapping negotiation. Sally was great at her job, patient, observant and meticulous. Her knowledge on criminal procedures and law was extensive and Greg had a feeling she could handle Sherlock’s more qwerkier sides and smooth things out between him and her teammates. 

 

“But she's not you.” Sherlock responded, his eyes focused on Greg as Greg snapped back into the moment, frowning when the words reached his brain. 

 

“I don't understand. She’s the best DI I’ve worked with so far. She was top of her class and-”

 

“Don't get me wrong. Inspector Donovan is good at her job, though I have a feeling she doesn't like me very much.” 

 

“Maybe if you hadn't called out that missed shoelace-” Greg started, giving Sherlock a look when the man huffed and rolled his eyes at him. 

 

“It was obvious for everyone with a pair of eyes, Lestrade.” 

 

“You could have handled it better.” Greg raised an eyebrow, remembering Sally’s upset about the whole situation, but Sherlock didn’t comment on it or apologize. It seemed to Greg that some of the rumors about the man were indeed true, but he doubted Sherlock was intentionally rude like some claimed. Still, the whole situation hadn’t made it easier. Still, Sally had taken it with grace, thanking Sherlock for the extra lead after she’d had time to cool off and look at the facts. 

 

“Want something to drink? There’s coffee? Or a beer?”

 

“A beer would be nice, yes.” 

 

Greg got up and walked to the kitchen, feeling Sherlock’s eyes on his back. He hadn’t even opened the beer bottles when Sherlock walked into the kitchen, stopping next to Greg as he looked around. 

The man walked and moved as silently as a cat but Greg's body was already tuned in to him it seemed. It unsettled Greg. He shoved the bottle of beer into Sherlock's hands the moment he’d opened it, taking a few steps back before taking a sip of his own bottle. 

 

“Not bad.” Sherlock smiled, taking another sip and for the first time in his life, Greg was jealous of a beer bottle. Something about the man's mouth drove Greg crazy, wondering if his lips felt as soft as they looked. Was he really as good a kisser as he appeared to be on the show?

 

_ For fuck's sake! _

 

“Everything alright, Lestrade?”

 

_ No. _

 

“Yeah, of course.” Greg nodded like a fool, taking another swing of his beer, almost choking in it because of the large gulp. At least his blush could be attributed to choking, he thought. 

 

Sherlock watched him with a half smile that seemed caught between amused and curious. 

 

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” The question was asked softly, almost a whisper and something in Sherlock's expression cracked Greg’s heart. Sherlock plucked at the beer label, waiting for Greg’s response and some of his nerves disappeared. As if he could see a glimpse of Sherlock Holmes the person and not just Sherlock Holmes, the actor. 

 

“Let's go back to the living room okay? It's been a hell of a day and my feet are killing me.” Greg smiled at Sherlock, leading him to the sofa. Sitting beside him, Greg felt Sherlock’s warmth next to him and this close he noticed the tiny lines underneath the man’s eyes. 

 

“Congrats on your movie. The reviews have been outstanding.” 

 

“You’ve followed it?” Sherlock’s eyes went a fraction wider as Greg nodded.

 

“Went to see it with Amelia. I liked it. It’s nice to see you in a different role, a bit less serious.”

 

“Thank you, Lestrade. I-” Sherlock licked his lips, staring at his knees. “Mycroft and I had a discussion about the movie. He wasn't sure if it was the right step in my career but I just-  I needed to do something else. Take a risk.” Sherlock looked up, his expression open and honest. 

 

Greg nodded, swallowing before he was able to speak. 

 

“You’re doing great. So, the police show-” 

 

“I need a new partner to follow and I-”

 

“I can try to talk to the Chief. Not sure how pleased he’ll be but-”

 

“I was thinking about you.”

 

“Wait, what?” Greg nearly dropped his beer on the floor while he tried to place it on the table. He looked at the man in shock, seeing the famous eye roll directed at him and he still couldn't form words. 

 

“I already spoke with your Chief and he said-”

 

“You did what?” 

 

“Don't make me repeat myself, Lestrade. It's not that illogical.” Sherlock's face went from slightly annoyed to full-on confused in less than a second and Greg had a feeling it had to do with him. His heart was racing, blood pumping through his veins as Sherlock's words hung in the air, waiting for a response. He tried to imagine himself at work, followed around by Sherlock every step of the way and his stomach turned. Not because he didn't like the man, but because he did. A bit too much for comfort. He swallowed, realizing the silence had been going on for too long and now Sherlock's eyes seemed less bright, the lines underneath his eyes more prominent. 

 

“You don't want me as your partner.”

 

“No! I mean, I don't really understand. Yes.” Greg closed his mouth with a snap, the heat on his face intensifying when Sherlock's eyes stayed focused on him, head slightly tilted as to unravel him completely. This was even worse than taking an oral exam. He took a deep breath and began again. “Why do you want to work with me? I know you had a rough start. But Sally is very good at her job and she's higher in rank then me. She’s already forgiven you about-”

 

“It's not about the rank, Lestrade. I take it you do the same work as her, but with less paperwork?” 

 

Greg couldn't stop a laugh at that and seeing the tiny lift of Sherlock's lips warmed his whole heart. He reached for his beer again, frowning when he noticed it was empty and held the bottle up. 

 

“Want another one?”

 

“Why not? I have no doubt Inspector Donovan is adequate at her job, I've learned a few things already, but like you said, we had a rough start and she doesn't like me. She's already tried to ditch me a few times.” Sherlock took the offered beer bottle, nodding his head in thanks but placing it on the table. 

 

“Wait, really?”

 

Sherlock nodded and then shrugged a shoulder as Greg sat down, taking a sip before setting it aside. Something in Sherlock’s expression made Greg want to reach out and pat his knee. It wouldn't be difficult to do, the space between them was smaller now but Greg made a fist instead, listening to his common sense. He didn't really know this man, had only met him a few months ago. They’d barely spoken since Sherlock had been shooting his movie.  He doubted his touch would be appreciated. 

 

“She also sees me as Sherlock Holmes, the actor.”

 

“It's hard not to see you like that. The billboards outside are quite big.” Greg gave a teasing smile when Sherlock huffed, muttering his brother's name under his breath. Of course the billboards were Mycroft's idea. 

 

“Did no one recognize you tonight when you came here?” 

 

“I can be invisible when I want to be Lestrade.” Sherlock smiled but Greg seriously doubted that. His mop of lush curls immediately caught your eye, not to mention the almost alien beauty Sherlock had. “You don't see me like that. Like Sherlock Holmes.” 

 

“I don't?”

 

Sherlock just smiled again, shifting in the sofa and for a flash second, their knees touched. The silence that followed was comfortable and Greg could hear the beginning rain outside his window. Something about this whole situation was both absurd and somehow familiar. Greg looked at Sherlock's profile as the man seemed lost in thought, occasionally taking a sip of his second beer. 

 

“You like me.” 

 

“Sorry?” Greg's heart jumped in his throat at Sherlock's words, already thinking of different ways to save the awkward situation when Sherlock continued. 

 

“Inspector Donovan doesn't like me, she tolerates me. She’s doing her job well but she can’t hide her dislike for the special favors I'm getting. At the same time she’s trying too hard, a bit blinded by my status as ‘important actor’. Sherlock air quoted the words as he rolled his eyes and Greg bit back a laugh. “You seem like a man that doesn’t really care about another person's status or wealth. Plus, I need someone who will sit down with me and explain everything, from start to finish. I've read the obvious textbooks on crime and crime solving but written knowledge will only get me so far.”

 

“You've read the textbooks?” Greg interrupted, not able to hide his surprise. Crime solving seemed cool on tv, but the theory was just as boring as any other subject. He'd only gotten through it because of  Amelia and Robin . 

 

“I'm an actor, Lestrade. I can read.”

 

“I didn't mean it like that.” Greg stumbled over his words, embarrassed by his thoughts but Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. 

 

“I'll be honest, it was at times boring but also enlightening. Still, textbook situations are the ideal circumstances and I need to know how it goes in the real world. You can help me with that.”

 

“I'm not so sure about that.”

 

“Don't let one idiot make you believe you are incompetent.” Sherlock's voice was hard and Greg looked up, blinking his eyes when he saw the fierceness in the man's eyes. 

 

“How do you-?”

 

“I won't work with just anyone, Lestrade. And my brother is paranoid at the best of times.”

 

“You did a background check on me? Is that how you know where I live? But how?” 

 

Sherlock didn't answer, even averting his gaze and Greg suddenly got up, walking towards the window and looking at the rain hitting the streets. He noticed a black car parked on the other side of the road, squinting his eyes as he tried to recognize the brand. A  Ford Fiesta  maybe? He’d never been the best at describing cars and he watched for a few more seconds, thinking he’d seen a hint of movement in the driver seat. He suddenly shook his head,  feeling foolish. Maybe Mycroft wasn’t the only one being paranoid. 

 

“I'm not sure how I feel about this Sherlock. You showing up here, talking to my boss behind my back. Just you asking me for help in the first place is-”

 

“What?” 

 

“Strange. It's just strange,” Greg's voice was harder than he intended it to be when he closed the curtains. He let out a sigh when he'd turned back around to Sherlock, seeing the stubbornness in the man's eyes as they looked at each other. “There are people out there that are much better qualified than me. I barely passed my tests and I still-” 

 

“I disagree and tests don’t mean anything.” Sherlock was up and standing in front of him before Greg even had time to blink. Sherlock's hands around his biceps felt like heavenly torture, his long fingers holding him firmly as he looked into Greg's eyes with a focus so intense, Greg couldn't breathe. “I know we don't know each other well. I know this situation is absurd and probably surreal for you. But I am just a man trying to do my job as best as possible. I have a feeling about you, Greg Lestrade. We could work. You are patient and kind and you don't get offended by my honesty.”

 

“I don't know, Sherlock. We barely know each other and-”

 

“You having a sex dream of me now and again is not a reason for us not to work together.” Sherlock said it so casually Greg almost thought he had imagined it. Then he saw Sherlock's little smirk and Greg’s blush returned, his heart racing as Sherlock still held onto him, searching his face. 

 

“I. How did you- I didn't- oh my god.”

 

“It's fine, Lestrade, happens all the time.”

 

“I. I need to sit down.” Greg whispered, getting out of Sherlock's hold and taken the few steps to his sofa like a drunk man. His knees felt like jelly, hands trembling ever so slightly as he braced them on his knees. He heard Sherlock sit down next to him again and he rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, heart racing a mile a minute.

 

“You need to stop looking at me like that. It's not funny at all.” Greg tried to sound cross, but he couldn't keep his eyes on Sherlock for long enough, staring at a point over the man’s shoulder instead. Part of him wondered if Sherlock could read his mind right now, seeing the mental images Greg had conjured up of them while sleeping. 

 

“It's a little funny.” 

 

“Sherlock, I-”

 

“You don't need to apologize, Lestrade. As I said, it happens all the time and it's flattering in a way.” Sherlock shrugged a shoulder when Greg let out a disbelieving sound. His face was still hot, probably as red as a tomato and yet Sherlock was talking about this like you talked about the weather. 

 

“Amelia was right, you know.” The way Sherlock was looking at him right now made it hard to sit still. There was a warmth in the man's eyes Greg hadn't seen before and he openly stared at the man when Sherlock licked his lips before continuing to speak. 

 

“You are an attractive man and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

 

Greg's world started spinning faster after that, his mouth opening to say something but nothing came to mind that sounded intelligent or witty so he snapped his mouth shut instead. The silence settled between them, Sherlock taking his beer and drinking the last of it, carefully placing it back on the table. 

 

“Is that why you are hesitant to work with me? Because of a few sex dreams? You know those don't mean anything, right? We all have them at some point in our lives. Scientists say it can symbolize a craving for attention, but I'm not sure if that study was-”

 

“Can you please stop talking about my sex dreams?” Greg gave his best pleading expression and Sherlock just rolled his eyes at that, shifting so he was closer to Greg. 

 

“What I mean to say is, I like you and I want to work with you for this upcoming role. I can understand that I've now made it too awkward for you. If so, I'll go back to the Chief and ask for someone else, though my number one pick is you. Here,” Sherlock gave him a cream colored card and then got up. “This is my private number. When you've made a decision, give me a call.”

 

“Aren't you afraid I'll share this?” Greg held up the card, meeting Sherlock's raised eyebrow head on. 

 

“Like I said, I have a good feeling about you. I've never been wrong before. Call me Lestrade. Goodnight.” 

 

And with that, Sherlock walked out the door.

 

_ Fuck. _

 


	3. Chapter 3

“What the hell is going on? Lestrade! How the hell are we supposed to do our jobs when half of London is here?!” Anderson, get those people behind the lines, right now!”

 

Greg held his breath as DI Dimmock turned around, fury in his eyes as he stepped closer to Greg, trying his best to keep his voice silent enough so bystanders couldn’t hear. 

 

“This is getting ridiculous, Lestrade! I’ve tried to be patient but this Holmes fellow is drawing too much attention. He’s been here for only 5 seconds and this is what we have to deal with.” Dimmock gestured behind him and Greg flinched when another camera flash pierced through the air. “I know the Chief agreed to this whole circus but this is getting too much! How did they even know he was here?”

 

Greg could only shake his head. Sherlock had arrived 10 minutes ago, not accompanied by his brother or assistant. He’d barely been able to say hello to him when the first fans had shown up, calling out to Sherlock to get an autograph or a picture. Anderson and Stewart had barely been able to protect the crime scene, people trying to get underneath the police tape, taking photos of Sherlock and the team. Thank god the body was inside. 

 

“Get those people away from there! For Christ’ sake, this is a crime scene people! Not the BAFTA’s!” Dimmock called out, shouting orders to Anderson and Steward, irritation clear in his voice. Greg’s heart was beating fast as he watched the group of people get bigger. Somehow word had gotten out of Sherlock’s latest project and how he was preparing for it. They’d done all they could to keep it low profile but Greg had known it wouldn’t take long for people to find out. Some of Sherlock's fans were very persistent. If it wasn’t so damn irritating Greg could almost admire them. 

 

“Dammit Lestrade! Is this how it’s going to be every time we have a case?” Dimmock snapped, gesturing to the crowd in front of them”  Last week we had to detain 3 people cause they were walking on the crime scene and taking pictures! Pictures Lestrade! They shared them on their bloody fucking Instagram account!” 

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened. None of us would share this information and Sherlock certainly wouldn’t. He’s just as annoyed by this as we are.” 

 

“Pff, he’s an actor. he lives for this kind of attention.” 

 

“I can assure you none of this is my doing, Detective Inspector.” Sherlock stepped up next to Greg, a twitch near his mouth as he looked at Dimmock. His eyes briefly went over the man’s shoulder, seeing the group of people that were standing behind the lines and Greg noticed Sherlock's body tensing up. “I can get them out of there in about 10 minutes.”

 

“Sherlock, you don’t have to-”

 

“Fine! Get them out of here Mister Holmes. I’m fed up with this whole spectacle.”

 

“I understand your frustration, Inspector. My apologies. I’ll do better next time.” Sherlock answered, his eyes not meeting Greg as he looked at the crowd, at least they’d stopped trying to get closer. 

 

“Next time you’re not allowed on my crime scene. We have a job to do, Mister Holmes, we don’t have time for this kind of drama. There is a dead body in there that deserves our attention and respect.” 

 

“Dimmock, the Chief-”

 

“I don’t bloody care, Lestrade! Look at that! Does that look normal to you?” Dimmock gestured to the crowd and Greg’s heart sank as a few more people stopped to see what was going on. Sherlock was still standing on the same spot, perfectly still like a statue and Greg wanted to reach out and comfort the man. It wasn’t Sherlock's fault, not really. He was doing this because he wanted to become better in his job, not to be difficult or cause a scene. 

 

“Let’s go Lestrade. The scene will be prepared for us now.”

 

“Shouldn’t I-” Greg started, looking at Sherlock with concern but Sherlock gave him a tiny smile, shaking his head. 

 

“It’s fine, Lestrade. I know what to do. Go do your job. I’ll do mine.” Sherlock nodded at them once before walking to the crowd. Greg could hear screams and shouts of excitement, the camera’s flashing even more as people started yelling for Sherlock’s attention. 

 

“Sherlock! Sherlock, over here! Can we get a picture of you? I'm your biggest fan! Oh my god, he looked at me!”

 

“What a circus.” DI Dimmock shook his head in disgust, gesturing at Greg to follow him and Greg turned his back to Sherlock, lead in his shoes as he followed Dimmock to the crime scene. 

 

**\-------------**

“It’s not Sherlock’s fault, Chief. He would never tell anyone about this.” 

 

“Then how do you explain this, Lestrade?” The Chief held up a photo, Greg’s stomach acting up as he recognized the crime scene they’d been to two days ago. There’d been a few people there when Sherlock and Greg had arrived but they’d all kept a respectful distance, waving and smiling at Sherlock as they passed by. Clearly someone had done more than that, taking photos of the team while they were photographing and preserving the scene. you could clearly see Sherlock standing on the sidelines, pointing to something while he talked to Greg. 

 

“It’s only one photo for now and thank god you can’t see the victims face but this is unacceptable, Lestrade.” The Chief threw the photo on his desk, slamming his hand above it before speaking again. “ Did you see the caption? #SherlockHolmesnetwork. What does that even mean?”

 

“It’s a name the fans have given themselves, they-”

 

“I don’t bloody care, Lestrade! What I care about is the reputation of the MET! We don’t need crime scene photos trending on social media! The Chief Superintendent is not pleased about this.” The Chief sat down on his chair, letting out a heavy sigh before running a hand through his hair. Greg stayed silent, standing up straight as the Chief lifted his head up. 

 

“Get this under control, Lestrade. Dimmock has been in my office every day this week.”

 

“We’re doing everything we can, Chief. Some of his fans are persistent.”

 

“Disturbed is a better word.” The Chief took the photo of his desk again, pulling a face as he looked at it. “DI Dimmock has requested another Detective Sergeant. Not because he’s unhappy with your work, Lestrade.” The Chief hastened to say, holding up the photo. “But because of this.”

 

“I see.” Greg responded, heart heavy as he looked at the photo. “What now?”

 

“We’ve exhausted all our current DI’s, Lestrade. Your fellow isn’t the most popular.” 

 

“I didn’t ask-” Greg started, but the Chief waved a hand, sorting the photo in a file. 

 

“I know, Lestrade. It’s my responsibility but I do have to consider the needs and wants of the team. So, what do you think about an early promotion?”

 

“I-What?”

 

“You already did all the exams and your work has been excellent, it’s just a matter of formality really.” The Chief opened up a draw, pulling out a dark blue box and handed it to Greg who took it with shaking hands. 

 

“Chief, are you-”

 

“Congratulations, Detective Inspector.” 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than the previous chapter. Hope you enjoy.

“There! I can see the other bloke.”

 

“Where is Sherlock? Is he behind him?”

 

“No, some other dude. Wait, isn’t that him?”

 

Greg buried his head further in his coat as he walked towards the Yard, trying to ignore the small group of people standing near the Yard to try and get a glimpse of Sherlock. After his talk with the Chief and then a talk with Mycroft and his team,  they’d changed up a few things and it seemed to help for now. There were still times when people stopped and gathered in front of a crime scene, but that was mostly due to morbid curiosity. When fans did find them, Sherlock went to speak to them, only for a couple of minutes and that was mostly enough to have people happy and on their way. The hashtag SherlockHolmesnetwork was popular on Instagram and Twitter but no other crime scene photos had appeared so far as they knew. The Chief had assigned  Joan  to the task of monitoring the hashtag and trying to locate where the first photo had come from. 

 

“Hey Leader of Crime Busting, everything alright?”

 

“Will you ever stop with that?” 

 

“Not likely.” 

 

Greg pulled a face when Amelia smiled at him, handing over a file. He’d been worried for the reactions of the other people in the team but they’d all congratulated him, clapping him on the back and saying it was about time. Amelia had been the must excited, hugging him till he was almost out of breath, tears in her eyes when she’d pulled back. Since then, she’d started calling him every variation of boss she could think off, even in different languages. 

 

“Sherlock still here?”

 

“Yeah, he’s in the back with Molly. Probably talking her head off.” Amelia smiled fondly as she gestured in the direction of the morgue. It didn’t seem to phase Sherlock at all. He’d handle his first dead body much better then Greg had done back in the day. 

 

“There’s a small group outside again.”

 

“Still? But it’s pouring rain!”

 

“Dedication, Amelia. They call it dedication.” Greg looked at his desk, trying to find a place for the file Amelia had handed him but he just dropped it on top of a pile. He’d get to cleaning and organizing his desk tomorrow. He really would.

 

“I can think of a few other words for it.” Amelia pulled a face as she watched the pile on Greg’s desk. It seemed, since he’d been promoted to DI, that his life consisted of paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. 

 

“You going home soon?” 

 

“Just need to finish a couple of papers and then I’m off. Our movie marathon still on for next weekend?” 

 

“Of course! I’m in desperate need of some bad vampire movies.” Greg smiled as he closed the door of his office. “Nothing new on the  Wilson  case? Was the neighbour able to identify the car?”

 

“Just a black Ford Fiesta. She thinks the plate starts with a B, maybe a P” Amelia answered, reading of her notepad before sitting down on her chair.

 

“That narrows it down.” Greg sighed, rubbing his eyes. It had been a crazy week. A lot of smaller cases asking his attention, learning about new procedures, getting a handle on his paperwork and reporting back to the Chief every day in regards to Sherlock and his presence in the Yard. The new precautions were helping but Greg knew they couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Another photo like that and Sherlock would have to leave and Greg would probably be demoted. He still wasn’t sure if his promotion to DI had been sincere or just a quick solution to a possible PR nightmare. 

 

“Enjoy your weekend Amelia. I’ll see you Monday.  Karim , good work today.  Lee , we’ll go over the bank statements Monday. I’m sure  Deirdre Brown  won’t be going anywhere this weekend. Night fellows!”

 

“Night, Lestrade.”

 

**\------**

 

“Death by videogame? That’s impossible.” 

 

“Not when you play it for 50 hours straight.” 

 

Greg stepped into Molly’s office, seeing her and Sherlock going over some papers. They were so engrossed in it they didn’t even hear him, Sherlock asking questions and Molly providing the answers, sometimes pointing to something on the page. 

 

“I swear it’s true. I saw the reports and they showed  he had 10 times the lethal amount of butane and propane in his bloodstream.”

 

“I guess he wasn’t so fresh after that.” 

 

“I see you two are having a great time here.” Greg couldn’t hide a smile when he met two startled pairs of eyes, Molly dropping a few of her papers on the ground as she’d turned. “Hello Molly, here, let me.” Greg stooped down, taking the papers of the floor and giving them a quick glance. 

 

“10 Bizarre Ways to Die? Is this research then?” Greg asked Sherlock, handing the papers back to Molly who had a soft blush on her cheeks. Sherlock gave him a smile, shrugging a shoulder. 

 

“You never know, Lestrade. Is it time to go?” 

 

Greg nodded, giving Molly a reassuring smile as Sherlock collected his coat and put it on. He pulled out his phone, frowning when he looked at the screen. 

 

“Mycroft.” Sherlock muttered, ignoring the phone as it started ringing and Greg couldn’t stop a smile. The relationship between the brothers was complicated but it was never boring and Sherlock rolled his eyes when he noticed Greg staring at him. “He likes to know where I am. A bit of a control freak. Goodnight Molly, thank you for the… information.” Sherlock smiled and Molly’s blush got a shade deeper as she stumbled out a goodbye. 

 

“I guess your brother has reason to be worried about you. Didn’t someone try to break into your house a couple of months ago?” Greg led Sherlock to the back exit, hoping there wouldn’t be any people, fans or press, waiting outside. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with them, feeling suddenly exhausted as they ran to Greg’s car. The rain had turned into hail, making the pavement slippery and Greg cursed as he almost crashed to the ground. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

“Fine. Stupid weather.” Greg mumbled as he unlocked the car, his knee throbbing from the sudden movement. He shook out the hail from his hair, not able to suppress a shiver as Sherlock stepped into the car, closing the door firmly and blowing on his hands. 

 

“It was my parents’ house they broke into, but it was still frightening for all of us. Some people seem to think they own me, that, because I’m a public figure, I have to be available for them 24/7. You know you don’t have to drive me home right? I can call Anthea.”

 

“Don’t be stupid. It’s on my way home anyway.” Greg strapped into his seatbelt, starting the car and cranking up the heating before heading to Sherlock’s home. The first time he’d gotten Sherlock home he’d been sure Sherlock had lied to him and had giving him a fake address. The place seemed to normal, almost as mundane as Greg’s flat thought Greg had a feeling Sherlock’s home was bigger. 

 

“I don’t know how you stand it, Sherlock. The people, the photos, the demands. I’d go insane.” 

 

“You’re handling it pretty well, actually.” Sherlock fidgeted with his phone, letting out a sign when a new message came in. “You get used to it, Lestrade. You learn to grow thicker skin. And not have a social media account. All seems quiet.” Sherlock commented and Greg let out a sigh of relief when he found a parking spot nearby Sherlock’s flat, the building tall and dark. 

 

“I don’t think you should get used to it. I’ve had to deal with these people for just a couple of weeks and I’m not even their main focus. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for you.” Greg turned off the car, looking down the street before he looked up at Sherlock’s building. He looked at the street again, his heart stopping for a second when he noticed a black car. This time he could clearly see it was a Ford but it was too dark outside to make out the number plate. 

 

“Everything okay?” Sherlock looked at him with concern in his eyes and Greg nodded. It was just a car, even if it was the same black car as before, that didn’t have to mean anything. Still… 

 

“Lestrade?”

 

“I’m fine. Sorry, it’s been a long week. Guess I’m starting to lose it. You should get inside before the weather gets worse.” Greg pulled a face as the hail clattered down on his front window. His own flat was about 15 kilometers away but in this rain it felt like he had to drive to the end of the world. Greg didn’t mind driving, after a stressful day it could even be relaxing with the right type of music, but he’d never been a  fan of driving at night. Something about the bright lights of the cars, mixed with the wet road made it harder for him to estimate distance. 

 

“Will you be able to drive home? The weather’s pretty bad.” Sherlock’s hand was on the door handle, watching Greg with his intense gaze. He still wasn’t completely used to it but at least he was able to breathe now. 

 

“Yeah, it's going to be f-fi-” Greg started but his sentence was cut off by deep yawn and Sherlock raised a knowing eyebrow at him. 

 

“Yes, now I have the utmost confidence that you won't crash on your way home. Come on, Lestrade. Get out.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“You're staying at my place tonight.” Sherlock opened the door, the hail trying to find its way inside. Sherlock poked his head back in, a half annoyed look in his eyes when Greg just sat there. “Coming? The weather’s not getting any better.” Sherlock pulled back, closing the car door and sprinting to the front door of his building, his coat billowing behind him. Greg shook himself out of his trance, unbuckling and following Sherlock inside. By the time he was inside and closed the door, Sherlock was already up the stairs and taking off his coat, shaking the hail and beginning snow out of his curls, making them even more into a mess. 

 

“Are you- are you sure?” Greg shivered lightly as he hung up his coat next to Sherlock on the coat rack, the exhausting always making him cold. 

 

“Don't make me repeat myself, Lestrade. It's boring. Come on in.”

 

Greg huffed as Sherlock lead the way further into his apartment, heading for the fireplace and rummaging around with wood and matches. It didn’t take long till the fire was started and Greg almost purred when the heat reached his body. He rubbed his hands together, closing his eyes for a few seconds and he heard Sherlock stand up and walk away. Then there was a clinging of cutlery and some pots and pans and Greg opened his eyes, curious to what Sherlock was up to. 

 

“You must be hungry? What time is it anyway?” Sherlock asked, keeping his eyes on the pot and pan in front of him. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious and Greg stepped closer, his stomach rumbling from hunger. 

 

“It’s almost 8. Can’t believe it’s this late already. No wonder I’m tired.” Greg rubbed his eyes, sitting down in the nearest chair as he yawned again. He’d been up at 5 this morning, his mind working overtime thinking about all the things he had to do and all the things he wanted to do. It seemed that the work never stopped and being a DI meant he had to be on top of everything, making sure his team was working at a 120%. 

 

“How is the Wilson case going?” Sherlock asked, busy with plating up the food, an adorable look of concentration on his face. Greg let out a sigh and Sherlock turned around, a small frown on his forehead as he handed a plate to Greg. 

 

“Sorry. I’m just frustrated. The case isn’t going anywhere for the moment. No new leads and the ones we did have aren’t really helping. Our witness thinks she saw a black Ford Fiesta, the plate starting with a B or a P but that doesn’t really narrow it down.” Greg started on his food, his stomach grumbling loudly as he took the first bite, not able to hold back an approving moan. “Wow, this is great! Really great, Sherlock. If your acting career ever falls flat you can become a chef.” Greg smiled, seeing the beginning blush on Sherlock’s cheeks as he looked down at his plate. He looked gorgeous and Greg felt an urge to reach out and stroke Sherlock’s pink cheek, wanting to see his eyes go wide with delight and surprise. 

 

“Thank you, Lestrade. Though I doubt I’d be good enough to make a profession of it.” 

 

“Are you kidding? This is divine.” Greg took another bite, savoring the rich taste in his mouth. He finally felt himself relax as the food filled up his stomach, making him warm and content. Sherlock got up from the table, coming back with a bottle of red wine, holding it up in question. Greg nodded after a second, seeing the pleased smile on Sherlock’s face before he took out a few glasses and poured, clicking their glasses together before taking a sip. They finished their meal in a comfortable silence, the sound of the rain on the window accompanying them.

 

“Everything okay, Sherlock?” Greg asked after Sherlock had looked up at him for the third time, opening and closing his mouth as many times. Greg placed his cutlery on the plate, giving Sherlock a smile before taking another sip of his wine. 

 

“I'm sorry, Lestrade.” Sherlock’s eyes went from Greg’s face to his plate again, a tiny furrow between his brows when he noticed it was empty. He was about to get up to clean off the table when Greg reached out, taking Sherlock’s wrist. 

 

“What are you sorry about, Sherlock?” He gave a gentle squeeze when Sherlock didn’t answer right away and when their eyes met,  Sherlock looked guilty. “What’s wrong?” Greg was halfway out of his chair when Sherlock shook his head, smoothly removing his wrist out of Greg’s hold. 

 

“Let’s go sit in the living room?” 

 

“Okay, do you want me to help you clean up?” Greg asked, gesturing at the table but Sherlock just waved a dismissive hand so Greg followed him into the living room, sitting close to the fire. He closed his eyes for a second to enjoy the warmth on his back, half startled when he opened his eyes and Sherlock was sitting next to him. 

 

“I should have done a better job at warning you.”

 

“Warn me? What for?” Greg asked, leaning forward as Sherlock nodded his head, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He’d worn it a few times before and it always knocked Greg off his feet, the deep purple color doing wonders for Sherlock’s pale complexion. 

 

“For my job and what comes with it. The people at DI Dimmock’s crime scene, the leaked crime photo. None of that would have happened if it wasn’t for me.  I should have known it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be press and fans. I know the Chief-”

 

“He wasn’t pleased with the leaked photo, no, but he’s put Joan to the task to find out where the photo came from and she’s the best at this sort of thing. We’ll deal with it, Sherlock.” 

 

“You shouldn’t have to. DI Dimmock is right, you have more important things to worry about and my presence is just a hindrance.”

 

“That’s not true.” Greg took Sherlock’s hand, interlacing their fingers as he firmly shook his head to stop Sherlock from protesting. “You gave Sally that lead with the missing shoelace and Amelia told me you had a talk with Lee about the Brown case and he’s been following up with what you said. That’s not being a hindrance at all, Sherlock. You’re helping. Besides, do you really think I’m that naive?” Greg tilted his head, smiling when Sherlock met his eyes and frowned. “You are the star of a very successful tv show and you’re the lead in the hottest movie of the year. It would be weird if people didn’t follow you.” 

 

“But I’m used to it, you and the team are not. I know you weren’t too happy with the photos of us in the papers. Mycroft tried to stop it but-” Sherlock’s cheeks were a deep pink now, staring at their interlaced fingers. Greg’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed himself stroking Sherlock’s palm with his thumb but the man didn’t seem to mind, lost in his thoughts. Greg cleared his throat, getting Sherlock out of his trance and reluctantly breaking out of the hold when he moved. 

 

“The photos were a bit intimidating yes. But again, I’m not naive. I know how the press works Sherlock, you stand next to someone for 5 seconds and they call him or her your potential new partner.” Greg pulled a face, remembering the screaming headline above the photos.  _ 'Is this Sherlock Holmes' secret lover?' _ He’d spilled half of his tea that morning, embarrassed and slightly angry by the whole thing. It had been strange, seeing his name in the papers but it was something he’d have to deal with now that he was a DI. Having Sherlock in his team had only sped up the process, now reporters were trying to get Greg’s attention as well, asking if he had any new leads or solved the latest murder. 

 

“We all have things we dislike in our jobs, Sherlock. For me it’s the never-ending pile of paperwork for you it’s being headline news.” Greg smiled, seeing the tiredness in Sherlock’s eyes. Not only was he following Greg on cases, he was also doing some voicing jobs and going on auditions for a couple of interesting films. Greg didn’t really know how Sherlock managed to do it all but he was glad with the man’s company at work. It was less boring going over the nitty, gritty details with Sherlock by his side. Greg rubbed his eyes, trying to stop a yawn but failing miserably and his heart skipped a beat when Sherlock looked at him, a smile on his lips. 

 

“Getting old Lestrade?” 

 

“Oi! It’s been a long week. I hope we have a lead for both cases soon otherwise I don’t think we’ll solve them.” 

 

“You’ll solve them. I know you will.” Sherlock placed his hand on Greg’s knee, giving him a confident smile and it felt like Greg’s world stopped moving. Sherlock’s hand was warm and heavy, the warmth of the fireplace making Greg relaxed and sleepy and his body swayed forward before he caught himself, blinking his eyes as he suddenly felt very warm. 

 

“Lestrade.” Sherlock's voice was just a whisper but it felt like it reached all corners of the room. Greg shifted but Sherlock's hand didn’t retreat and Greg swallowed, mouth feeling dry as Sherlock watched him. 

 

“Why did you choose me?” 

 

“Why not?” Sherlock replied, lifting his eyebrow when Greg let out a huff. He’d been racking his brain about it ever since Sherlock had handed him that cream colored card, allowing him and Amelia to go backstage and talk with the man. He’d only heard half of what Sherlock had talked about, not feeling in his own body as they sat there. Amelia had needed to fill him in on a few details when they arrived back home, fondly smiling when Greg needed to sit down to take it all in, Mycroft’s contact information in his trembling hands. 

 

“You’re a kind and patient man, Lestrade. You’re good at your job and you aren’t intimidated by me. At least not anymore.” Sherlock smirked when Greg raised an eyebrow, the color on his face deepening. Sherlock stroked his knee absently and Greg let him, still amazed by how his life has turned around in just a few months.

 

“You like me.” Sherlock broke the silence, his hand firmly on Greg’s knee and Greg nodded without thinking about it, drowning in Sherlock’s eyes. “That doesn’t happen often. Sure, people think they like me because of my job and the characters I portray but they don’t know me. I’m very selective of who I let into my life, my home.” Sherlock gestured with his free hand around his flat.  “I know it seems contradictory. My face is on billboards all over the country but very few people have my number, or know where I live.”

 

“You know I would never-” Greg started but Sherlock stopped him with a nod of his head, shifting a bit closer. 

 

“I know. I trust you, Lestrade. I trusted you from the moment we met. You’re a wonderful man. You are,” Sherlock said firmly when Greg let out a huff, running a hand through his hair. “Your ex is an idiot.” 

 

Greg’s breathe caught when Sherlock leaned forward, his hand moving from Greg’s knee to his face, caressing Greg’s chin softly. Sherlock smiled, but Greg saw the sliver of doubt in his eyes as he looked from Greg’s eyes to his lips, licking his own lips unconsciously. 

 

“Greg.” 

 

Greg shivered by the way Sherlock said his name, nodding his head without knowing why and then the distance between them closed. Sherlock’s lips felt soft and dry against his own, his hand going from his face to his hair, other hand following soon as the kiss deepened. Greg let out a moan when Sherlock’s tongue found his, gently exploring. Greg finally snapped out of his trance when Sherlock let out a breathy sound and he wrapped his arms around him, pulling Sherlock half on his lap. 

 

“Do you want- I mean, we don’t have to do anything else but if you-” Sherlock blushed fiercely when they came up for air, biting his lower lip as he looked up at Greg through his lashes. Greg’s heart stopped for a millisecond, mesmerized by the beautiful man before him and then he smiled, hands sliding down to Sherlock’s arse, smirking when Sherlock’s body pushed forward. 

 

“If you want me in your bed, I’d be very much willing.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where it earns its Explicit rating!

Greg tried his best to not wake Sherlock when he got back into bed but by the time he’d found the best way to lie down, Sherlock had already turned to face him, blinking sleepingly at him before he gave a soft, somewhat insecure smile. 

 

“For a second there I didn’t think you’d come back.”

 

“Don’t be silly.” Greg whispered, laying on his side to face Sherlock, placing a kiss on the man’s hand before interlacing their fingers. Greg still felt exhausted but in a different way. His body was aching in all the pleasurable ways and his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the lovemark he’d left above Sherlock’s collarbone. He met Sherlock’s eyes, pouting his mouth to ask for a kiss and let out a relief sigh when Sherlock obliged. 

 

“You think I’d leave now? After all this?” Greg stroked Sherlock’s cheek with his free hand, shifting in the bed so Sherlock could lay his head on Greg’s shoulder, Sherlock’s fingers caressing the scar he’d gotten when he was 16 and in a car accident. 

 

“People do crazy things in the heat of the moment. I wouldn't blame you if-”

 

“Hey,” Greg shook his head when Sherlock lifted up his head to meet his gaze. “I don’t regret what happened just now. Don’t ever think that. I’m staying for as long as I’m welcome.” 

 

“Or at least till the rain stops pouring.” Sherlock looked up, not able to hide the sparkle of amusement and Greg gently slapped Sherlock’s arse, making him giggle.

 

“You’re a menace, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

“You like it.” 

 

“That I do.” Greg smiled, finding Sherlock’s lips and giving him a needy kiss, feeling Sherlock push up against his leg. 

 

“Ready for another round, Sunshine?” 

 

“Greg.” 

 

Greg smirked when Sherlock blinked, heat clear in his eyes. Greg’s cock hardened, hands going down to Sherlock’s arse to rub them together, letting out a curse as he felt Sherlock’s hard cock against his own. 

 

“Fuck! You’re amazing.” Greg panted, turning them around so Sherock was underneath him, impatiently pulling off the man’s clothes to get his hands on him. Sherlock made a wanton sound, spreading his legs and Greg felt a surge of pride as he looked Sherlock over. The mark above his collarbone was livid, a nice contrast on his pale skin and he started licking and sucking Sherlock’s neck, sliding between the man’s knees. 

 

“Greg, oh yes. Like that.” Sherlock wrapped one leg around him, a hand grabbing hold of Greg’s hair as Greg went lower to lick and tease a nipple, hands stroking Sherlock’s flanks. Sherlock let out the most amazing, needy sounds and Greg couldn’t get enough of them, trailing a line of kisses and licks from Sherlock’s nipples to his bellybutton, hands resting on Sherlock’s hips before he looked up. 

 

“You’re gorgeous, Sunshine. Beautiful.” 

 

“Greg, please, I need. I need you-” Sherlock lifted his head, his face red and sweety, eyes filled with desire, his fingers grabbing hold of Greg’s shoulders, digging his nails in and Greg let out a curse, plastering himself against Sherlock as he tried to find friction. “I need you. Greg, please, oh please.”

 

“You’re killing me, Darling. So needy, so amazing.” Greg bit out, his cock rock hard as Sherlock half rutted against him, wrapped around him like an octopus. He kissed him filthy and sloppy, stroking his own dick a few times to take the edge up. Sherlock’s gaze was unfocused, licking his lips unconsciously and Greg reached out to take Sherlock’s cock, Sherlock arching into the touch as he spread his legs. 

 

“Now. I need to feel you now. Don’t- don’t stop. Please, I-”

 

“Shhh, Baby, breathe. I won’t let you down. Relax, relax for me Sunshine. It’s going to feel so good.” Greg moved, lining himself up, pinning Sherlock down by the hips as he slowly slid inside. He held his breath, eyes focused on Sherlock and then he was fully seated, noticing how Sherlock relaxed after a few second, micro movements begging Greg to just move. 

 

“You feel so good. Oh god, I-” Greg let out a curse when Sherlock moved, seeing the pleased smile on his face when their eyes met. “Menace.” Greg panted, digging his nails into Sherlock’s skin as he started moving in and out, quickly increasing the pace and force. The room was filled with the sounds and smells of sex, making Greg almost dizzy with lust as he moved inside Sherlock’s arse, tight and slick and perfect and soon he felt Sherlock’s body tense around him. 

 

“I-I- Oh god, I- Greg!” Sherlock shouted, stroking his dick fast and hard and Greg bit his lip, pounding into him wanting to feel Sherlock come while he was still inside him. 

 

“That’s it! That’s it, Baby, almost there! Almost, oh god, look at you. Come for me Sweetheart, come for me! YES.” Greg screamed when Sherlock came, strings of semen landing on his pale stomach, painting a beautiful picture. Greg followed soon after, filling Sherlock’s hole up again, body shivering as he gently pulled out, watching his release drip out of Sherlock’s used entrance. He collapse on the bed next to him, panting for air as he felt Sherlock cuddle up beside him, their warm bodies cooling off fast. 

 

“We should get you cleaned up, Love.”

 

“Hmn, just a few more minutes.” Sherlock whispered, body feeling heavy and comfortable against Greg side. He smiled, stroking away a wet curl before placing a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead, already losing the battle against sleep. 

 

**\------------**

“This is your fault.” 

 

“How is it my fault? I told you we should have cleaned you up.” Greg smiled as Sherlock slid out of bed, making a disgusted face as he rubbed his stomach. 

 

“You fell asleep.”

 

“I wasn’t the only one, remember.” Greg couldn’t stop the laugh as Sherlock rolled his eyes at him, heading in the direction of the bathroom and it wasn’t long till he heard streaming water and Sherlock’s muffled voice. Greg climbed out of bed, gooseflesh forming as he was too lazy to put something on. He took the time to stretch his body before making his way to the bathroom, secretly pleased with the slight discomfort he felt.

 

“Sorry, couldn’t hear what you were saying.” 

 

“I said, are you joining me?” Sherlock’s head poked out of the shower curtain and Greg needed a second to get his thoughts into order. It felt like he’d been here all his life, sharing a shower with Sherlock. Laughing and bantering the morning after great sex. Greg couldn’t remember the last time it had felt so natural and easy. “Well, are you?” 

 

Greg didn’t respond, just stepped into to shower, pushing Sherlock against the wall to kiss him greedily. He felt Sherlock smile against his lips, body relaxing into it as the water fell down on them. 

 

“Sex in the shower is a bad idea, Lestrade. I wouldn’t want you to break your leg.” 

 

“I’m not that old, Smartarse.” Greg grumbled, carefully getting down on his knees and grinning when he saw Sherlock’s dilated eyes, his mouth in a wonderful O shape.

 

“Speechless, are you?” Greg smirked, licking Sherlock’s cock teasingly and Sherlock’s fingers found their way into Greg’s hair, holding it to steady himself as Greg teased him hard. By the time Sherlock came down his throat his knees were throbbing but it was all worth it when Sherlock nearly devoured him in return, letting Greg face fuck him. 

 

“Maybe we should wash ourselves now? Wasn’t that the plan?” Greg asked playfully, eyes roaming over Sherlock’s lean and pale body, adoring the soft blush it earned him. Sherlock took a bottle of shampoo but Greg took it from him, pouring a generous amount on his hands before rubbing them together and telling Sherlock to turn around. 

 

“You're not going to do anything kinky with that, are you?”

 

“Not unless you want me to.” Greg teased in Sherlock’s ear, pressing his body against him and biting Sherlock’s earlobe. 

 

“You’re terrible.” Sherlock sounded a bit breathless and Greg laughed, placing a kiss on the man’s wet shoulder before setting to work to wash his hair. He took his times, caressing and scraping his fingernails gently along Sherlock’s scalp, seeing the effect it had, Sherlock’s body relaxing with every stroke and caress. He rinsed out the shampoo carefully, making sure it was all gone before taking the soap and telling Sherlock to turn around. 

 

“Okay?” Greg asked, holding up the soap, biting his lip to hide the pleased smile when Sherlock nodded, eyes falling closed as  Greg lathered the soap over his body. Sherlock’s cock perked up when Greg’s hands went over it, but Greg ignored it, going down to Sherlock’s legs and feet before taking the showerhead and rinsing him thoroughly. 

 

“All clean now. Better?” 

 

“Yes.” Sherlock opened his eyes, smiling at Greg with warmth and sincerity and Greg knew in that moment he was totally lost. Smitten with Sherlock Holmes, the man. He swallowed, turning to face the fallen water, a sadness coming over him and he lightly startled when he felt Sherlock’s arms wrap around his waist, Sherlock chest solid against his back. 

 

_ I don’t deserve you.  _

 

“Not exactly convenient, Love.” Greg joked, his throat feeling closed up as Sherlock just pressed closer against him, placing tiny kisses on his shoulder. 

 

“Whatever you are thinking, stop it.” Sherlock said in his ear, squeezing Greg one more time before letting go. Greg let himself be turned around by Sherlock, seeing the crease of worry between his brows. 

 

“Are you having second thoughts?” Sherlock asked, reaching behind Greg to take the soap. Greg let out his breath slowly as Sherlock’s hands went over his body, getting rid of the evidence of their lovemaking. It already felt like a lifetime ago and Greg brushed his thumb over the lovebite he’d left, Sherlock covering his hand with his own. 

 

“Just realising it will be Monday all too soon. We should get out of the shower, water’s getting colder.”

 

They quickly dried themselves off, Greg’s heart heavy as he put on his clothes from yesterday. Sherlock went straight into the kitchen to clean up the mess from last night and Greg lingered in the living room, seeing that it had finally stopped raining. He looked around the flat, noticing things he hadn’t paid attention to yesterday. Sherlock desk was even more cluttered than his own, stacks of books, papers and files all over the surface. He walked to the bookcase, recognizing a few of his old criminal schoolbooks before his eyes landed on a skull on the middle shelve. 

 

“Friend of yours?” Greg called out, carefully taking the skull to take a closer look. It was very well made but up close Greg could tell it wasn’t a real one. He’d studied and seen enough skulls to know the difference by now. He walked towards the kitchen, stopping in the doorframe to watch Sherlock work. The smell of eggs and bacon filled his nose and he couldn’t stop a longing moan, Sherlock turning his head, eyebrow raised when he noticed the skull in Greg’s hand. 

 

Greg repeated his question, holding the skull in the air. Sherlock blinked once before he smiled and shook his head, gesturing at Greg to come further inside and sit down. Greg placed the skull carefully on the table, checking out Sherlock’s back and firm arse as the man finished the last of the bacon and toast. 

 

“I can feel you watching me.” Sherlock spoke softly, turning around with two plates, soft smile directed at Greg as Greg felt his cheeks warm up. “I don’t mind. I like how you look at me.”

 

“You’re hard not to look at to be honest.” Greg took the offered plate, his stomach making an approving sound as the delicious smell filled his nose. Sherlock sat down opposite him, a shy look and Greg’s heart sank a bit deeper. 

 

_ I’ll never forget this moment. _

 

“Why are you looking like that?” Sherlock asked after taking a bite of his food. 

 

“Like what, Sherlock?”

 

“Like it’s the last time you’ll see me. You do remember we agreed to sit down on Tuesday to go over some questions I have? Want some orange juice? Or more bread?”

 

“I’m fine, Sherlock. Breakfast is amazing, thank you. And no, I didn't forget about Tuesday.” Greg replied, taking another bit of his eggs and bacon. The easy conversing with Sherlock made it extra painful somehow. They’d spend a lovely night and morning together but Greg wasn’t a fool. He knew it would never be more than that, for that, Greg was too normal, too mundane. Someone as brilliant as Sherlock deserved much more. Working with Sherlock after this weekend would be difficult but Greg would manage somehow. He finished the rest of his plate, standing up to put it all on the kitchen counter. 

 

“I should head home soon. Need to get some groceries for next week and I want to catch up on some paperwork. I- I had a lovely time, Sherlock.”

 

“Lestrade-” 

 

“Don’t worry. I won’t be posting about it on Twitter or anything. You won’t have to worry about the hashtag IbangedSherlockHolmes.” Greg tried to sound casual, finding it difficult to smile. Leaving Sherlock felt wrong, but he knew he didn’t have a  right to stay. He was about to step into the living room to collect his coat when Sherlock stopped him, blocking his way out of the kitchen. 

 

“What are-” Greg started to ask but Sherlock took his face between his hands, kissing Greg with a passion and a hunger that spread all through his body. His cock was definitely alive by the time Sherlock broke the kiss, stroking Greg’s cheek with his thumb before slowly lowering his hands and taking a step back. 

 

“Is that how you see us?” Sherlock asked, gesturing between them and Greg blinked, still not recovered from the kiss. Sherlock rolled his eyes, stepping closer again and taking Greg’s hand firmly, placing a kiss on the knuckles. “Because I don’t see this as just one amazing night.” 

 

“You- Don’t?” 

 

Sherlock shook his head, eyes going to the side for a moment before looking back at Greg. He bit his lip, shoulders tense and Greg felt relief flow through him. He couldn’t stop the big smile spreading on his face, feeling Sherlock’s hand grab him tighter as his shoulders dropped and Greg leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. 

 

“You’re an idiot, Lestrade.”

 

“Ruining a romantic moment, Sherlock.” Greg pulled back, placing a kiss on Sherlock’s lips and then they both giggled, Greg wrapped his arms around Sherlock afterward, holding him tightly and feeling like he was able to breathe again. 

 

“Will you stay a little longer?” Sherlock whispered, his cheeks a soft pink when Greg withdraw to look him in the eyes. 

 

“Of course.”  


	6. Chapter 6

_ 2  months later _

 

“What the- You nearly gave me a heart attack! Is the front door too boring for you?” Greg held a hand to his heart as he watched Sherlock climb into his flat, closing the window behind him. Sherlock brushed off his coat, taking it off and draping it on a nearby chair before smiling devilishly at Greg. 

 

“Nice to see you too, Lestrade.”

 

“I- You’re a madman, you know that right?” Greg grinned, stepping forward and wrapping Sherlock in his arms, taking in his scent and feeling his body relax and worries slip away. “I thought you wouldn’t be back till Tuesday, did anything happen?”

 

“No,” Sherlock shook his head, stroking Greg’s hair before leaning down and kissing him. Greg melted into it, letting out a needy moan as Sherlock’s hands slipped down his back and groped his arse. “Just missed you.” 

 

“I missed you too.” Greg whispered against Sherlock’s lips, hugging him tightly, letting out a sigh of relief. The past few months had been a whirlwind. Not only did Greg’s workload add up, the press had also gotten wind of their relationship and now it seemed like every reporter in the country wanted to talk to him. They followed him to work, waited for him at his flat, shouted questions while he was on a crime scene. It drove him and the team crazy and the Chief had nearly exploded when a couple of reporter had managed to get inside the Yard, taking photos of Greg’s office before they started asking question to employees. 

 

“How is the work going?” Sherlock asked, creating a bit of space between them to look Greg in the eye. 

 

“Slowly. But it’s going. How about you?” Greg took Sherlock’s hand, placing a kiss on it before directed Sherlock further into his flat and towards the bedroom. 

 

“Good. My costar is nice. Very professional. Impatient are we?” Sherlock grinned, desire in his eyes as Greg closed the bedroom door and went to close the windows. He didn’t need a cover photo of him and Sherlock in bed, thank you very much. Though, since Sherlock had started filming on his new show and wasn’t near any real crime scenes the interest of the press had slowed down. Yes, you had the odd reporter now and then, asking how the case was going, but those were at least crime scene reporters. They didn’t care who Greg slept with as long as the cases got solved. 

 

“Always. Damn, Sherlock. Do you have to wear so many layers?” Greg grumbled, impatiently trying to open the buttons of the black vest Sherlock was wearing. Sherlock wasn’t helping either, just smiling as Greg struggled, getting him out of focus by kissing Greg’s neck, hands dancing over his body. 

 

“Finally!” Greg said triumphantly, looking at Sherlock’ naked chest, taking in all the details before his hands went to make quick work of the rest of his clothes. Sherlock’s cock was half hard by the time Greg threw his socks and underwear near the side, letting Greg’s eyes wander up and down his body. 

 

“Like what you see?” 

 

“Hmn. Always,” Greg replied, pushing Sherlock on the bed, seeing the surprise in his eyes. Greg smiled, taking off his own clothes, watching Sherlock’s reactions as he stripped down. He sucked in his stomach, cheeks warming up as Sherlock shook his head. 

 

“There’s no need for that, Lestrade. You’re perfect.”

 

Greg let out a huff, letting Sherlock take his hand and drag him on top of him. His knee made a displeased sound as he sat on Sherlock’s lap, running his fingers through the silky feeling curls. 

 

“Some days I still can’t believe that this is all real.” Greg confessed, stopping Sherlock from speaking with a fierce kiss, gently pulling on a curl and making his partner gasp. Sherlock laid down on the bed, Greg following and covering him with his own body. He took his time licking and kissing Sherlock’s body, reveling in the small sighs and breathy moans it earned him. Sherlock gazed up at him with cloudy eyes, fully relaxed and perfect. 

 

“I’ll never get tired of this.” Greg whispered, fingers going down to tease Sherlock’s cock, Sherlock's legs falling open to give him more room. 

 

“Greg, oh please-” Sherlock grabbed the sheets as Greg went down, taking Sherlock’s cock in his mouth as he fingered him. Sherlock was soon begging, a string of please, I want more, don’t stop, falling from his lips as Greg took him in deeper. He felt Sherlock’s balls tense up, Sherlock searching for his hand to grab hold off and then he felt the salty taste of Sherlock’s release on his tongue.

 

“Greg.” Sherlock panted, forehead shining with sweat, a pleased smile on his face when Greg climbed up Sherlock’s body, sitting on his stomach. “You’re gorgeous. Mark me.”

 

Greg growled when Sherlock’s nails digged into his arse, working himself hard and fast, cock throbbing with want. Their eyes locked, Sherlock whispering encouraging things as Greg stroked himself even faster, free hand on Sherlock’s damp chest to steady himself. 

 

“I’m going to-”

 

“Yes, yes, come closer. I need to taste you, I need-”

 

“Fuck!” Greg came with a shout, strings of cum clinging to Sherlock’s face as he licked up the bits he could reach. 

 

“Greg.” Sherlock murmured, pulling Greg down so he could kiss him sloppily, Greg tasting himself on Sherlock’s tongue. He pulled back reluctantly, one knee popping when he got up and stood next to the bed, looking at Sherlock smeared with his cum. He had the insane desire to capture that moment on photo. Sherlock looked dishevelled and real. Vulnerable, and something inside Greg’s stomach twisted at the realisation that he was allowed to witness it. 

 

“Be right back. Need to clean up.”

 

“No,” Sherlock protested, trying to take Greg’s wrist. Greg laughed, stepping out of reach and laughed even harder when he saw Sherlock’s pout. 

 

“You’ll thank me later. Remember the first time when we didn’t clean you up?” 

 

“No, do you want to reenact it?” Sherlock gave his best sultry smile and Greg’s heart skipped a beat. Damn, the man was sexy! 

 

“You’re going to kill me, Sherlock Holmes.” 

 

“At least it’s a fun way to go.” Sherlock called after him, Greg grinning as he went into the bathroom to get what he needed. 

 

**\------**

“Sherlock?” Greg woke up a few hours later, frown on his face when he opened his eyes and noticed Sherlock wasn’t lying next to him. He touched the sheets, not that cold to the touch so at least Sherlock had stayed in bed for a while. Greg had come to learn that his lover didn’t need a lot of sleep, sometimes only getting into bed around 4 in the morning and getting up again around 7. It couldn’t exactly be healthy but Sherlock assured him it had been like that his entire life. 

“When filming is over I crash and sleep for two or three days straight.” 

 

Greg wasn’t reassured by that at all but he’d let it go, figuring Sherlock was old enough to know when his body needed rest. He got up, going to the loo before putting on a pair of sweatpants and an old Harry Potter T-shirt. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Greg called out at Sherlock’s back, his heart stopping when Sherlock turned around and held up a stack of letters. “Why are you-”

 

“I needed to charge my phone. You normally keep it in the second drawer but it wasn’t there so I opened up the top one and then found these. When were you planning to tell me?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow in question and Greg stepped forward, taking the letters from him and letting out a sigh. 

 

“I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been busy with your new show and it’s not like you could do something about it.” 

 

“I could have been here to support you when you got them. I know how creepy and invasive it can feel to get these.” Sherlock’s voice had a hard edge to it and Greg flinched, feeling guilty for not including Sherlock in this. “Did you show these to your team?”

 

“Of course. The first one arrived at the Yard, so I couldn’t really hide it.” Greg looked at the letters in his hand, remembering how upset Amelia had been when he’d showed it to her. He’d found her reaction too dramatic, not able to hold back a mocking laugh when he read the letter to her. It all sounded like a sad teenager not knowing the line between reality and fiction. He’d brushed it off, only letting Amelia make a digital copy because she kept insisting, even dragging Joan from behind her computer to plead her case. 

 

“You should keep an eye on this, Sir. You know how badly stalker cases can end.” Joan had said to him when they were alone in his office but he still hadn’t really believed her. Then the letters had started coming more frequently, the language bolder and more upsetting and he’d started a folder of them. 

 

“You got them at your work?” Sherlock asked, gesturing at Greg to give him the letters and Greg reluctantly let go. Sherlock’s eyes went over the lines of the first letter and frowned. 

 

“The first 5, yes.” Greg responded, separating them so Sherlock could look them over. “This one,” Greg pointed, still feeling the unease as he thought back to finding the letter in his mailbox. “ This one came here. We checked them for prints but there wasn’t a hit in the system. The ink and paper used are pretty standard, so we haven’t gotten very far.” 

 

“Expert on Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock mumbled, reading over the letters. His frown deepened as he went through the stack. “I understand him. You don’t deserve him. Ugly and old.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that, looking at Greg for a few seconds and Greg had to hard time not smiling. The tone of the letters had started to darken as time went on and Greg could see the effect it had on Sherlock’s face. By the time he read the last letter his hands were shaking and Greg gently plucked the letter out of his hands, dragging Sherlock to the sofa. 

 

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

 

“No.” Sherlock looked into Greg’s eyes, taking his head between his hands. He leaned forward, kissing Greg deeply before pulling him into an embrace. They stayed like that for about a minute, Sherlock clinging to him and Greg nearly had tears in his eyes by the time they pulled apart. 

 

“I’m sorry, Lestrade. If it hadn’t been for me-” 

 

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Sherlock. I knew what I signed up for. Crazy fans and haters will always be there. They’re not bullying me away from you.” Greg kisses him, smiling when they pulled back, nodding his head when Sherlock returned it cautiously. 

 

“They threatened to kill you, Lestrade. Whoever this person is, he or she is dangerous. It’s clear they see you as a threat. They probably feel you’re standing between us, between a happy ending. Mycroft will know for sure, but this person, theimprobableone, he or she has sent letters to me too. Declaring their undying love.” Sherlock pulled a face before rolling his eyes. He rubbed his eyes, looking at Greg with concern before standing back up and going to the desk. His fingers flew over this phone and a moment later he already had a reply. 

 

“Mycroft will bring the letters they sent to me. Maybe they will help with figuring out who this person is. You should be careful, Lestrade. Now that people know where you live-” Sherlock let out a deep sigh, flopping down next to Greg. 

 

“You know me, Love. Constant vigilance.” Greg grinned, but Sherlock just gave him a confused look. “Don’t tell me you don’t know that reference? Oh my god,” Greg called out when Sherlock shook his head. “You know it’s a little disturbing that you don’t know where that comes from as a British actor.” 

 

“Well, will you tell me or do I have to guess?” 

 

Greg let out a huff, gesturing to his T-shirt. “It’s even a meme on the internet!” 

 

“Excuse me for not knowing every movie made.” Sherlock pouted as Greg let out a disbelieving grunt, facepalming dramatically. 

 

“It’s a classic, Sherlock! Just like James Bond or Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Greg gestured to his TV, a small amount of his DVD collection in the TV cabinet. “We have to do a movie night, urgently. Amelia is going to have a field day with this. She’s more obsessed with movies than I am.” Greg grinned when Sherlock let out a groan, patting his shoulder before standing up and rubbing his stomach. 

 

“You hungry? You kind of wore me out earlier tonight.” 

 

“Not hungry for dinner, no.” Sherlock smiled, Greg’s cock stirring as he felt Sherlock’s eyes travel up and down his body. He held out a hand when Sherlock got up to grab him, doing his best to keep a straight face. 

 

“Dinner first, sex later.”

 

“You’re no fun, Lestrade.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank 27dragons for this. She helped me get to the crazy bit I had in my head and decide on how the chapters were going to go.


	7. Chapter 7

_3 months later_

 

Do you want me to bring back some take away when I’m done working? SH

  
  


Please yes! This day has been the longest known to man. How can a person have so many secrets?!

  
  


Most people do. SH

  
  


What secrets are you keeping then?

  
  


Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out. SH

  
  


No objections to that.

  
  


Good to know. I’ll text you when I’m done working. SH

  
  


See you tonight, love! Don’t forget the sweet and sour chicken. X

 

Greg smiled as he sent off his message, putting his phone face down on his desk and sitting back down. He couldn't suppress a sigh as he looked at the papers waiting for him. Pages and pages of information, all contradicting each other and it was Greg’s job to make sense of them. The hit and run case had seemed like a no brainer when they’d first been called in, but now it was a complicated mess. He didn’t know who was telling the truth and who was lying about the victim and with every day that passed, more contradictions came in. 

 

“Okay, let’s get back to what we know for sure.” Greg mumbled in himself, taking a piece of paper and jotting down the facts that they knew were true. He was so focused on his work he didn’t hear Amelia come in till she cleared her throat, making him flinch in surprise. 

 

“Amelia!”

 

“Hey, Boss. Thinking deeply I see.”

 

Greg couldn’t help but smile when he saw Amelia’s smirk. Some of his stress and worry always lifted when he was near her and again he wondered what he’d done with himself if she hadn’t been there. It must have shown on his face cause her expression changed to something soft and vulnerable, closing the door behind her before sitting down on the opposite chair and reaching for his hand. 

 

“Everything okay? I know it hasn’t exactly been easy.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s all a mess now but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Someone is lying and we’ll-”

 

“No,” Amelia stopped him, squeezing his hand and giving a soft smile when Greg frowned. “ I wasn’t talking about the case. Though this one in particular is a tough one. I’m talking about you and everything that’s been going on in your life. How is Sherlock?”

 

“Oh.” Greg blushed, his face getting warmer as Amelia’s smile grew bigger. “It’s, it’s going well. Better then I would have expected really. It’s still surreal at times. The press, the fans, the gossip.” Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair as Amelia let go of him, nodding her head sympathetically. 

 

“Have you gotten any more letters?” 

 

“No, at least that’s something. Though I’m not sure if it’s a good thing.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Amelia frowned, shifting in the chair. 

 

“I don’t know.” Greg started, staring at the list he’d made of their current case. He’d initially been thrilled that he hadn’t gotten any new letters but now something was nagging at him. It seemed like a very abrupt change, getting multiple letters a month and then none at all. He’d mentioned it to Sherlock, but Sherlock had told him not to worry.

 

“They’ve probably found someone else to obsess over.”

 

He’d tried to see it that way and move on but something about the tone of the letters had made it difficult for him to believe it was just a lovesick and reality disordered teenager. 

 

“Sherlock says not to worry about it but, you’ve seen the letters too. They are pretty disturbing, right? I don’t think he or she is capable of simply moving on.” 

 

“Has Joan found anything?” 

 

“That’s why I find it hard to relax. She hasn’t.” Greg fiddled with his pen, talking about it made the worry and doubt creep up again. The last letter had been sent around 2 months ago and none of them had given Joan or Mycroft’s team any leads to the sender. “It can’t be a teenager, can it?”

 

“Some are pretty smart.” Amelia smiled, patting Greg’s hand when he huffed. “Maybe it’s like Sherlock said and they’ve found someone new to obsess over. You know how fickle that world is, you’ve even been part of it this year. I still have that Silver Fox headline on my board!” 

 

“One of these days I’m going to fire you.”

 

“You can’t fire me. Besides, you love me.” Amelia beamed at him, giver her best I’m a saint expression and Greg laughed out loud. 

 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

 

“Don’t forget who dragged you to that convention in the first place.” She winked, standing up and rounding Greg’s desk to give him a hug. “Are you going to be working long tonight?” 

 

“Sherlock is getting take away once he’s done filming for today. I don’t know how long that will take. Why?”

 

“Nothing. Just checking if he’s still treating you right. But maybe we can go grab a beer?” Amelia pulled back and Greg turned his chair around to face her. He got up, placing his hands on her shoulders and really taking the time to look at her carefully. 

 

“Is everything alright? Cause if something is going on-”

 

“Nothing is going on, Greg. Just- Just want to spend some time with you.” Amelia looked away for a millisecond and that was all Greg needed to decide. He wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tightly until she relaxed and answered the hug. He pulled back a little, seeing the shy expression in her eyes. 

 

“I’ve been a lousy friend haven’t I?” He whispered, brushing away a disobeying strand of hair before placing a kiss on her forehead. 

 

“You’ve been occupied with other things. It’s been kinda crazy these last few months. I don’t think you’re capable of being a lousy friend.” 

 

“Okay, okay, I’m buying the beer!” Greg smiled as Amelia pushed him away, fake annoyed. 

 

“I’ll come get you around 6? Well, if there isn’t a major breakthrough in our case. How is the brainstorm going?” Amelia asked, taking Greg’s list off the desk and reading over it. She gestured at him for a pen, adding some more notes before handing it back to him. 

 

“Maybe we have to talk to all the witnesses again?” Amelia suggested, pulling a face as she did. It had started raining again, the droplets crashing down on Greg’s window. “Check their stories and alibis again. You’re right, someone is lying. Maybe even more than one of them.” 

 

Amelia nodded her head in response and Greg opened up the file with the list of contacts. “Here, Mike Todd. Let’s go have a chat with him again.”

 

“You got it, Mighty Leader.”

 

“For the love of-” Amelia laughed, quickly closing the door behind her. Greg glanced at his desk again, taking his phone before putting on his coat and calling out to Amelia. It had felt like a long day but at least he’ll be able to relax and spend it with his best friend and later his partner and that was something Greg was looking forward too. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just adore Amelia and Greg together. I know I made her up, but I think she's a great friend for Greg ( and Sherlock). What do you think of Amelia? Would you be friends with her?


	8. Chapter 8

“These chicken cubes are the best.” 

 

“Will you say that every time we eat this?”

 

“Probably.” Greg smiled as he took a bite, letting the food warm him up. The rain had been pouring down by the time Sherlock had texted him and he’d been soaked just running from the pub to his car. He’d dropped Amelia off at her flat, asking her at least 3 times if she didn’t want to join them for dinner but she’d kindly declined. 

 

“Enjoy some quality time together. You have to share him enough as it is.”

 

“You wouldn’t be a burden, Amelia. Sherlock likes you.” 

 

“Of course he does. I’m a very likable person.” She’d winked at him, thanking him for a lovely time at the pub and he’d waited from driving away till she’d been safely inside. On the drive to Sherlock’s flat he’d berated himself, feeling guilty for not giving her more of his time and attention over the last few months. She’d been there for him time and time again, picking him up after Andrew had cheated on him. Patiently listening to his rants and letting him scream and cry when he needed to. He wasn’t doing the same for her and it pained him. Amelia seemed like a very confident and strong person but Greg knew better. He’d promised himself to do better by her and show her that he was still her friend and not just her boss. She’d handled the whole situation so well, him being promoted to DI so soon. Not a lot of people would have. 

 

“She knows you care for her, Lestrade.” Sherlock brought him out of his musings and Greg smiled, taking Sherlock’s free hand and interlacing their fingers. 

 

“It’s still a bit creepy when you do that, love.” Greg smiles, squeezing Sherlock’s hand to indicate he’s wasn’t annoyed. Most of the time he’d just impressed with Sherlock ability to read his mind. Though the man didn’t call it that, it feels like it to Greg. Sometimes Sherlock’s knew instantly what was bothering Greg by just looking at him. It made for very honest and real conversations between them, something he ’d never experienced with Andrew in all the years they’d been together. 

 

“I do need to do better. It’s been crazy these past few months and she’s been so patient and kind. I have been neglecting her a little bit.” Greg sighed, guilt making him look at his plate for a moment. 

 

“It’s been a whirlwind for sure. Not everyone would be able to deal with it. I’m glad you’re still here.” Sherlock spoke softly, a beginning blush on his cheeks and Greg wanted to drag him over the table and kiss him senseless. Sometimes it still amazed him that he was sitting here, in Sherlock’s flat, being part of his life. They’d been together for almost 5 months now but some days it felt like just 5 seconds, time flying by. It felt easy with Sherlock, even when the outside world tried to complicated things. Somehow they just worked together and Greg was still baffled by it, even slightly alarmed. Surely it couldn’t stay this perfect forever?

 

“Stop worrying.” Sherlock interrupted his thoughts and Greg blinked up, fake scowl on his face. 

 

“Stop mindreading me.”

 

“For the last time, it’s called deduction, I just-”

 

“Observe and deduce. Yes, I know love. I’m just teasing. Want some more rice?”

 

Greg plated up when Sherlock nodded, glad he was eating a normal amount of food for once. 

 

“You will sort it out with Amelia. Going to the pub tonight was a good step in the right direction. These chicken cubes aren’t bad at all.” Sherlock blinked in surprise as he took another one and Greg gave him an ‘I told you so’ look. Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, watching Greg with focus, a tiny crease between his forehead as he did. 

 

“You’re not just worried about Amelia, are you? Is this about the invitation?”

 

Greg didn’t answer fast enough and Sherlock raised an eyebrow, dropping his fork on his almost empty plate. Sherlock had gotten the invitation to the BAFTA’s a few days ago, being nominated for best actor in a leading role for his role on Cold Water. Greg had been beyond excited, already pointing out suggestions were his award would look good displayed but Sherlock had calmed him down, fond smile on his face. 

 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Lestrade. It’s just a nomination. I haven’t won.”

 

“ **Yet** . You haven’t won yet.” Greg had replied, staring at the invitation with wide, pride eyes. He’d nearly dropped his tea when Sherlock had invited him along casually, as if going for a walk in the park. 

 

“You’re serious?” 

 

“It does say, Sherlock Holmes and guest.” Sherlock had pointed to the envelope, hopeful expression on his face and Greg pushed down his beginning worries and doubts long enough to stammer,  “Of course.” 

 

“Are you done eating?” Sherlock asked, expression closed off as Greg nodded, cleaning up the table before putting the dishes in the dishwasher with the rest and packing up the leftover food. Sherlock began making tea, back turned to Greg as he boiled the water and added the teabags and by the time it was all finished Greg felt on edge. 

 

“Sherlock, I-”

 

“If you’ve changed your mind that’s fine. I’ll just go alone. Mycroft and Anthea will both be there so it’s not a big deal.” Sherlock talked fast, taking the tea and cups to the living room and Greg followed, wanting to touch Sherlock but the man was occupying himself with the tea, carefully pouring out two cups. 

 

“I do realise it’s rather last notice and it’s really not as exciting as the television crew lets it appear. There is a lot of waiting involved apparently.”

 

“It’s not that, Sherlock.” Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching out and taking Sherlock’s hand, noticing the tension in his partner’s body. “I do want to go with you, Sherlock, it’s just- Lets sit down first okay?” Greg directed Sherlock to the sofa, sitting down next to him so they had to face each other. Greg took a breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to clear his thoughts. 

 

“What about theimprobableone?”

 

“What about them?” Sherlock frowned, ignoring his tea as Greg fidgeted with his hands.

 

“I know you’ve told me to forget about it, but something about this whole situation doesn’t make sense.” Greg started, staring at Sherlock’s chest without really seeing it, focusing on explaining his worries. “Since we’ve been dating I’ve been getting an increasing amount of letters from them, getting more violent and threatening with each new one and now, suddenly, they’ve stopped? Just like that?” 

 

“It does happen, Lestrade. As I said, they move on to the next star and-”

 

“That’s the thing, I’m not a star.” Greg looked up, frown increasing. “ I’ve never been. I’m just a normal bloke who happens to be dating an extraordinary one.” Greg shook his head when Sherlock huffed at that. “It’s true. I’m just a DI and you are an actor who’s been nominated for a BAFTA. In their eyes, in a lot of people’s eyes, it just doesn’t make sense that you would want to date me.” 

 

“That’s absurd. Clearly, they don’t know how good and kind you are. But what does all this have to do with you not wanting to attend the ceremony with me?” Sherlock asked, a hint of hurt in his voice and Greg took his hand again, kissing the knuckles before answering. 

 

“I want to go with you. Of course, I do, I’m so proud of you Sherlock. I just- I feel like this silence is adding up to something bigger and I’m not sure if it’s wise to be seen with you.”

 

“You think something will happen during the ceremony?” 

 

Greg nodded his head in relief, glad Sherlock was following his train of thought. He knew it sounded absurd and maybe too dramatic but the letters had told in detail about all the ways Greg could suffer at theimprobableone’s hands and he would be a bad DI if he just ignored it. It wasn’t so much the danger to himself he feared but what could happen to Sherlock. The stalkers love for Sherlock could also turn into hatred and Greg had witnessed what that could result in. Love and hate lived very close together and people had a huge imagination when it came to revenge. 

 

“I’m worried us being seen together so publicly will snap something inside their head and I just- if anything would happen to you because of me I-” Greg stopped, throat feeling thick as he took Sherlock’s hand and held it tightly. 

 

“None of this is because of you, Lestrade. And nothing will happen to me. They do have an excellent security team there. Everyone gets screened before being allowed to enter. You have nothing to worry about. I do admit,” Sherlock said when Greg wanted to protest. “It’s strange they stopped sending letters so suddenly but there could be a bunch of reasons for that. Maybe they found someone new to obsess over, maybe their parents found out…”

 

“You still believe it’s a teenager?” 

 

“It usually is.” Sherlock replied, shrugging a shoulder before leaning forward and kissing Greg deeply. Greg sighed into it, letting some of his fears melt away as Sherlock explored his mouth, fingers massaging his scalp. 

 

“You’re trying to distract me.” Greg panted as Sherlock’s tongue licked his neck, hands going down his chest. 

 

“Is it working?” Sherlock whispered, opening one button of Greg’s shirt, nibbling on Greg’s earlobe and smirking when Greg let out a curse. His eyes were wide, cheeks a soft pink and Greg growled as he pushed Sherlock down onto the sofa, covering him with his body.

 

“This won’t work every time.” Greg said sternly, pinching Sherlock’s nipple through the fabric of his shirt when the man replied with a mocked “Of course not”. 

  
  


\-----------

  
  


“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” Greg whispered, looking at the man laying next to him, his curls all tangled up from their previous activities. Greg could still see the faint outline of some lovebites he’d given Sherlock and he ran the tip of his finger over it, smiling when Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at him. 

 

“I’m not hiding, Lestrade. I want you by my side.” 

 

“Are you-” Greg started, biting his lip to stop himself. He let his hand lay flat on Sherlock’s naked chest, scolding himself for not being able to drop it. Sherlock moved underneath him, sitting up in bed, back against the headboard and Greg let out a silent sigh as Sherlock took his hand. 

 

“Am I what, Greg? What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing.” Greg started, face warming up as Sherlock raised a knowing eyebrow. “This show, it’s going to be live on television, right?”

 

“Yes?” 

 

“And if I go with you, I’m sitting next to you?” 

 

“That’s usually how it goes, yes.” Sherlock replied, his face the definition of confusion as he waited for Greg to explain himself. 

 

“You really don’t mind? That people will see us together? That you’ll be seen with me?” Greg felt like a fool as the words left his mouth, wanting to rewind the last few minutes and start over. 

 

“Greg,” Sherlock touched his cheek, Greg not able to hide, his heart melting when Sherlock smiled that soft, real smile at him. Sherlock leaned forward, pressing their lips together briefly before whispering on Greg’s lips.  “I want the whole world to know how lucky a man I am.” 

 

Greg was slightly panting by the time Sherlock broke the kiss, nothing but love in his eyes. It still caught Greg off guard, not sure how to deal with it and he held Sherlock’s hand tightly, feeling tears begin to form. 

 

“Greg?” 

 

“Sorry, I’m being a fool.” Greg barely got the words out, blinking his eyes rapidly but a few tears still fought their way out, running down his cheek. Sherlock’s fingers caught them, worry and beginning fear in his eyes as he looked at Greg. He reached behind him, opening the nightstand and then Greg was handed a paper handkerchief. Greg mumbled an embarrassing ‘thanks’ wiping away the stray tears and taking a few deep breaths before facing Sherlock. His smile felt a bit watery but Sherlock returned it anyway, lines around his mouth indicating his worries. 

 

“Sorry, I just- I don’t know- The invitation.” Greg took a shaky breath, placing a light kiss on Sherlock’s lips before speaking again. “Part of me is still waiting for you to wake up and realize that you can do so much better.”

 

“Lestrade!” 

 

“Please,” Greg held up a hand, seeing the angry fire in Sherlock's eyes. “Let me explain. Try to explain, okay?” Sherlock nodded reluctantly, pressing his mouth together. 

 

“Meeting you has been the best and weirdest experience in my life.” Greg stated, smiling when Sherlock just raised an eyebrow. “I was still healing from my break up with Andrew and then somehow, you took an interest in me and we ended up working together. I just couldn’t believe that someone like you would want to spend time with me. Even if it was just professional. I was hardly the best qualified person for the job at the time.”

 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Lestrade.” Sherlock spoke up, frown on his forehead. “I already told you not to believe in idiots. They are wrong.” 

 

“Are they though?” 

 

“Of course they are! What are you talking about?” Sherlock moved, naked chest exposed to the cool air. Greg’s eyes took in the smooth skin, muscles flexing as Sherlock moved his arm, hand cupping Greg’s cheek. “What’s going on, Lestrade? Have you checked social media again cause I told you-”

 

“No,” Greg shook his head, placing his hand on Sherlock’s that was still cupping his cheek, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He’d learned early on that checking social media was a bad decision, the comments making him at times want to cry or throw up. People didn’t hold back behind their screen names and Greg was glad he didn’t have many social media platforms. The ones he did have were very carefully protected, only visible for family and friends. Not that he used them often and since being promoted to DI he didn’t have a lot of free time at hand to scroll through endless feeds. 

 

“I’ve learned my lesson the first time around. It’s not social media, it’s just-” Greg sighed, looking into Sherlock’s eyes, his free hand roaming over Sherlock’s naked chest. “Look at you, you’re perfect. Fit, strong, skinny, gorgeous. What could you possibly see in me?” Greg tried to avoid Sherlock’s gaze after that, needing to create space, to run and hide but Sherlock took his hand and Greg stayed, heart beating like a butterfly trapped. 

 

“How long has this been going on?” Sherlock asked and Greg swallowed, afraid to answer. Sherlock somehow still understood, eyebrow raised as he looked into Greg’s eyes. 

 

“Oh, Greg.” Sherlock wrapped him into his arms and Greg had to fight back tears again as Sherlock tightened his hold. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Sherlock gently rubbing his back and he felt even more silly when they pulled apart. It was clear some of Andrew’s words had stuck with him, looking at himself in the mirror and noticing all the little flaws he had. 

 

“It’s stupid. I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t care about this stuff but it’s hard not to compare myself and feel like I’m lacking when the newspapers do it for me every time we step outside the door. Silver Fox doesn’t have such a nice ring to it anymore.” Greg halfheartedly laughed, running a hand through his hair. Most newspapers had been kind, talking about his excellent work with the Yard but not all were that easy. One particularly unflattering photo still haunted Greg’s mind, wanting to start an extreme workout routine whenever he thought about it. 

 

“Those idiots don’t know what they are talking about. If they could see you now-” Sherlock trailed off, eyes going over Greg’s torso and Greg couldn’t stop a laugh when Sherlock playfully licked his lips and winked. “Maybe we should send a photo of you like this? Proof of how wrong they are.” 

 

“Don’t you dare.” 

 

“Just an idea, Lestrade. It would boost your confidence. You know I don’t want you to change right?” Sherlock asked, his thumb stroking Greg’s cheek. “I’m with you because I want to be. I don’t see you as ordinary at all. You’re kind, loving, patient and smart. You give everyone the benefit of the doubt and you see the good in people. There’s nothing ordinary about you. Or boring.”  Sherlock raised a knowing eyebrow, leaning forward to kiss Greg’s lips. 

 

“I want you to come to the BAFTA’s with me, Lestrade. As my partner, as my friend, as my lover. Forget about the haters and the crazy fans. I’m proud to be seen with you. You really don’t have to worry, the security will be top notch.” Sherlock whispered in Greg’s ear before licking the shell, causing Greg to shiver. 

 

“Okay. I’ll go to the BAFTA’s with you. Amelia is going to freak out.” 

 

“She’ll freak out even more when she gets the package Mycroft sent.” 

 

“What package?” Greg asked, seeing Sherlock’s playful expression. 

 

“Let’s just say you’re going to spend some quality time with your best friend very soon.” 

 

“You- You got her a ticket for the BAFTA’s?” Greg’s mouth dropped open when Sherlock grinned like a child. He reached out, capturing Sherlock in a heated kiss that made them both moan. 

 

“You’re amazing, you know that right?”

 

“I have my moments, yes.” Sherlock winked and Greg rolled his eyes at him, shaking his head fondly before kissing him again. 

 

“I love you.” Greg bit his lip, cheeks turning warm as Sherlock pulled back a fraction, blinking his eyes rapidly. He was about to take his words back when Sherlock smiled, a big grin lighting up his face as his hand cupped Greg’s cheek. 

 

“I love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long chapter! I hope you made it to the end and enjoyed it! 
> 
> What do you think of Greg's worries? Do you think he is right or just being overdramatic? And the BAFTA's! How cool is that?!


	9. Chapter 9

“This place is huge. And we’re sitting so close to the stage!” Greg tried to keep his voice low but he had a hard time containing his enthusiasm. He still couldn’t believe he was at the BAFTA’s, on the arm of Sherlock Holmes. It was all overwhelming and Greg wanted to remember every single detail of this night. The place, the people, the atmosphere. Amelia was beaming behind him, waving a hand when he looked backward, squeezing Joan’s hand when she recognized another celebrity. Somehow in the last few weeks that had happened, Amelia and Joan and Greg was happy for her. Joan was kind, very smart and she had a calming presence that fitted with Amelia’s more energetic personality. 

 

“Do you think Neil Patrick Harris will host?” Greg asked Sherlock, shaking his head in disbelief when Sherlock gave him a questioning look. “Neil Patrick Harris? Actor? Played Doogie in Doogie Howser MD? You really don’t know him?” 

 

“Like I said before, I don’t know every actor in the world, Lestrade.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Mycroft when he let out a sigh, sharing a look with Greg that made Sherlock pout. “As if you know him Mycroft! You’re even worse than me!”

 

“Everyone knows him, Sherlock. He’s played on Broadway multiple times.” 

 

“Not to mention he’s the god of hosting. He’s hosted the Emmys and the Tony’s and the-”

 

“Okay,” Sherlock called out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I get it, he’s amazing. Can we now drop it.? He’s not hosting tonight, it’s Stephen Fry.” 

 

“You do know who that is, don’t you?” Amelia asked from behind them and Greg had to bite his lip to not burst out laughing at Sherlock’ affronted look. 

 

“Em, be nice.” Joan smiled, patting Amelia’s hand. “Sherlock’s been so kind to arrange these tickets for us. You shouldn’t mock him.” 

 

“Finally, someone decent. Ms.Watson it’s my pleasure.” Sherlock bowed his head, earning him a playful slap from Amelia. 

 

“Are they always like this?” Mycroft asked Greg, a tired look in his eyes. Greg shrugged a shoulder in answer, squinting his eyes to take a closer look at Mycroft next to him. He seemed even paler than usual, bags under his eyes and Mycroft raised an eyebrow when the moment lasted too long. 

 

“Sorry, you just- Are you alright? You look-”

 

“Exhausted?” Anthea asked, giving Mycroft a stern look before looking at Greg again. “See, I told you people would notice? You really need to take it easy and get some rest. I don’t understand why you are insisting on this crazy work schedule.”

 

“There is still a possibility that-”

 

“The security team is aware, Mycroft. It won’t do any of us good if you die from exhaustion.” Anthea interrupted, Greg noticing the concern behind her stern voice. “I should just call your mother and-”

 

“NO!” 

 

Greg nearly jumped out of his seat as both Mycroft and Sherlock looked at Anthea with terror. Greg quickly looked around, seeing a few celebrities look at them with disapproval while Amelia tried not to laugh and Joan just watched them with curiosity. 

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Mycroft whispered, his cheeks a light red as people in front of them turned around again, watching the technicians check the last of the equipment. Sherlock had been right about the waiting part at least. 

 

“Don’t make me, Mycroft. I will if I have to. Relax, please. Nobody is getting in here without a thorough check. You’ve seen how long it took us to get in.”

 

“Hmn,” Greg hummed. It had taken at least 20 minutes before they had been able to get inside, checking invitations, asking a few questions, checking the ladies’ handbags. Amelia had been irritated with it, just like Sherlock but Greg hadn’t mind. Knowing there was a good security team watching over them gave him peace of mind, at least a little. He felt Sherlock’s hand on his and he gave it a squeeze, smiling when Sherlock looked at him. 

 

“Hey Greg, isn’t that your friend? The one that now works at Bart’s?” Amelia asked, pointing to a short, blond man a few rows behind them. 

 

“John! Woohoo, over here”

 

“Amelia, stop!” Greg turned red as the whole room turned to look at them. He felt Sherlock’s tight hold of his hand and saw the twinkle of amusement in his partner’s eyes before he spoke up. 

“That’s Martin Freeman. I’ve worked with him a few times. Very nice man.” 

 

“He does look a lot like John, doesn’t he? Greg? Greg, you okay?” Amelia frowned, Greg rubbing his face before turning to look at his friend. “Maybe John has a twin he forgot to mention?”

 

“No. He only has a sister, Henriette. But the resemblance is kinda scary.” 

 

“I could introduce you later at the after party if you like.” Sherlock whispered in his ear, giving Greg a quick kiss on the cheek. “Think they’re about to start.”

 

“Are you nervous?” Greg whispered, the lights dimming as music started to play. He could just make out Sherlock's features, seeing the small smile on his lips. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

**\-----**

Greg held Sherlock’s hand as they walked to the car that would bring them to the afterparty. Mycroft and Anthea stepped into the first car, Mycroft giving her a tight smile as she whispered something in his ear. She waved at the both of them before getting in, already pulling out her phone. Greg shook his head as he watched them drive up, the camera flashes starting to irritate his eyes. 

 

“Almost done, Lestrade.” Sherlock whispered, the flashes of the camera’s intensifying and Greg suppressed a sign. All this media attention was something he would never get used to and he let out a sigh of relief when he slipped into the limo next to Sherlock, able to close out the world for a few precious moments. 

 

“You know where you’re going to put it yet?” Amelia asked, gesturing at the award in Sherlock’s hands. Greg had never felt more proud than the moment Sherlock’s name got called out for winning best actor. He’d gently shoved at him when Sherlock hadn’t moved, blinking his eyes rapidly before looking at Greg, as if needing confirmation that this was real. 

 

“Next to the skull will be perfect.” Sherlock answered, giving Greg a knowing smile and Greg squeezed Sherlock’s hand. 

 

Reporters were standing in front of the venue where the afterparty would take place and Greg braced himself, letting his breath out slowly as the car door opened. He blinked his eyes against the flashes, feeling Sherlock take his elbow to make their way inside. 

 

“Sherlock! Sherlock! How do you feel winning the award for best actor?”

 

“I’m still a bit baffled to be honest.” Sherlock responded as he didn’t stop moving to the door. Amelia and Joan were already inside, not important enough for the gathered press and Amelia let out a whistle when they finally made it. 

 

“You weren’t kidding about the press. My god!” 

 

“Sherlock says you get used to it.” Greg shrugged a shoulder, letting the staff take of his coat. The music was loud, the lights dimmed and Greg’s ears almost exploded as he followed his friends further inside. There were so many people Greg didn’t have time to name them all in his head. Suddenly he had a drink in hand, toasting with Sherlock and then Sherlock dragged him to the dancefloor.

 

“No. No, no, I don’t dance.” Greg struggled, trying to get out of Sherlock’s hold. 

 

“Oh, go on Greg! Have some fun!” Amelia called from behind him, giggling and laughing with Joan as they attacked the snacks on the table reserved for them. 

 

“No, seriously! Every time I dance someone gets hurt. Ask my Aunt Delila! Sherlock-”

 

“Stop worrying, Lestrade. I’ll guide you.” Sherlock grinned, taking Greg in his arms and leaving zero space between their bodies. Greg’s face warmed up as Sherlock took the lead, moving his body with the rhythm like it was second nature.

 

“I suck at dancing.” Greg yelled, trying to get above the music, feeling how stiff his body was. Sherlock just shook his head, leaning forward to kiss Greg, grinding their bodies together. Greg let out a needy sound as Sherlock explored his mouth, hands resting on Sherlock’s arse as they moved. For a moment Greg forgot they weren’t alone and pulled Sherlock closer, his cock rubbing against Sherlock’s. 

 

“Keep that up and we’ll definitely make headlines.” Sherlock smirked, face flushed, eyes bright and Greg just wanted to drag him home and claim him. Something must have shown on his face cause Sherlock’s eyes went wider, licking his lips before winking at Greg, teasing him by moving his hips. 

 

“God, you’re awful!” Greg laughed, pulling a stray curl. Sherlock shrugged a shoulder, a wicked smile on his face. 

 

“I need a drink. Something non-alcoholic.” Greg panted by the time the song was finished, feeling warm and slightly uncomfortable when they made it to their table. Amelia and Joan were sitting close, trying to have a conversation. Amelia pointing at the crowd from time to time. 

 

“Oh, look! That Martin fellow!” 

 

“It’s rude to point and stare, Am.” Joan shook her head fondly, catching the attention of someone of the waiter staff and ordering drinks for them all. “It’s nice to not have to pay for once.” 

 

“They’re not bad to drink either.” Amelia said, downing the last of her drink before accepting the other one. 

 

“Isn’t your brother coming?” Greg asked, looking around as he took a big gulp of his drink, feeling the sweat run down his face. 

 

“He hates this sort of thing. He’s an even worse dancer then you are, Lestrade.” Sherlock smiled, placing a kiss on Greg’s lips when Greg pouted. “You’re not too bad, a bit more practice and-”

 

“Hell no, I’m done dancing for tonight, thank you very much. I’m already sweating like a horse.” 

 

“The toilets are that way I think?” Joan pointed to her right. 

 

“Be right back. I do need to try and look decent enough for you.” 

 

Greg made his way to the toilets, trying not to knock anyone over. The room was packed with people, chatter and laughter being mixed in with the music. He let out a sigh of relief when he stepped into the restroom, the noise a bit more bearable. 

 

He cleaned up as best he could, splashing some water in his face. The whole evening had been a whirlwind, feeling surreal and Greg still felt like he was in a fairytale. Maybe it would all feel more grounded once they went home. Where he’d be able to have Sherlock for himself, have a chance to talk about the night and just be together without a million eyes watching them. 

 

“Everything okay?” Sherlock asked as soon as Greg made it back to their table. Greg nodded, grateful when Sherlock handed him a glass of water. Amelia and Joan had made it to the dancefloor and Greg watched them for a couple of minutes, heart swelling with happiness as he saw the look on Amelia’s face. 

 

“They look good together.”

 

“Yeah, they really do. Thank you,” Greg turned to face Sherlock, placing his head on the man’s shoulder. “This was a wonderful evening. It wouldn’t have happened without you.” 

 

“Anytime, Lestrade. Anytime. Want me to introduce you to Martin Freeman now?” 

 

\------

“What are you smiling about?” Greg asked when he sat down next to Sherlock again. Sherlock held up his phone, amusement in his voice. 

 

“A text from Anthea, apparently my brother is being more obnoxious than usual. How was Martin?” Sherlock texted out a reply before putting his phone away and giving Greg his full attention. It was something Greg found extremely attractive, how Sherlock wasn’t glued to his device the whole time. Mycroft and Anthea took care of Sherlock’s social media platforms but the man himself was hardly on them, finding them a waste of time and an invasion of privacy. 

 

“Martin’s a funny guy. You do need to get used to him.” Greg said, smiling when Sherlock nodded his head with a knowing look. “So, why isn’t your brother here?” 

 

“Mycroft hates these sort of things. He only went to the BAFTAs because it would have been rude to decline. He didn’t want me to go.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Because of theimprobableone. He was worried. He worries constantly.” Sherlock pulled his nose as he said it, taking a sip from his lemonade. Greg looked out at the dancefloor, spotting Anthea and Joan on the near end of it, dancing with each other like they were the only ones left in the world. Greg couldn’t stop a fond smile, happy his friend had found some happiness. He looked back at Sherlock, a lump in his throat when Sherlock met his gaze, seeing the fondness in his eyes.

 

“Maybe he as a reason to be worried.” 

 

“Maybe. But putting my life on hold for a maybe is not my style.” Sherlock took Greg’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Sherlock leaned forward and Greg melted into the kiss, forgetting everything while it lasted. He smiled like a loon when they broke apart, placing his hand over Sherlock’s heart for a moment. He wouldn’t let anything happen to this glorious man. Theimprobableone could give it his best shot but Greg would be there, next to Sherlock’s side. Sherlock frowned at Greg, the beginning of worry in his eyes and Greg blinked his eyes, getting himself together again as he withdrew his hand from Sherlock’s chest. 

 

_ Stop being a sentimental fool!  _

 

“Anthea was pissed she couldn’t join us.” Greg remarked, needing to say something to end the weird moment. “Are she and your brother a thing? They seem to be together 24/7.” 

 

“A thing?” Sherlock pulled a face at the word before shaking his head, leaning closer when the next song blared out of the speakers. Some kind of pop song  Greg didn’t recognize but Amelia did, letting out an excited scream before dragging Joan to the dancefloor again. 

 

“Anthea is happily married to Mike Stamford. For a doctor, he’s a decent guy. Anthea and Mycroft have known each other since Mycroft was at university. Don’t ask me how, but somehow she liked him enough to spend time with him.” Sherlock grinned at that and Greg rolled his eyes. He’d been dating Sherlock long enough to know the man really loved his brother. 

 

“Mycroft can be somewhat distant in his manners, it’s not always good for making connections in this industry. You have to pretend to like people but it can’t be obvious that you are pretending. It’s something my brother is still learning to do. Anthea is a natural at making friends and starting conversations. She eases the way.” Sherlock smiled, the warm one that made Greg’s heart stop beating for a second. 

 

“Mycroft trusts her and her opinion. He also knows she has the best interests at heart for me and would never double cross us to make more money or to get her 15 minutes of fame. She’s like my brother in that regard, she likes to work in the shadows. Though she does enjoy a good afterparty now and again.” Sherlock winked, finishing his drink and Greg couldn’t stop a jawn from escaping. It had been a typical work week with facts to go over, paperwork to sort and meetings to attend but he’d been up since 6 this morning, not able to go back to sleep and it was starting to show. 

 

“Let’s go home?”” Sherlock asked, squeezing Greg’s hand when he was about to protest. “ It’s almost 2 in the morning. I could use a bit of sleep myself.” 

 

“The great Sherlock Holmes is going to sleep?” Greg winked when Sherlock rolled his eyes. Amelia and Joan were still on the dancefloor, talking to a couple of blonde haired woman Greg didn’t recognize. “I’ll let them know we are ready to go home.” 

 

“If they don’t want to leave yet that’s okay. Mycroft made sure there’s a car available. They just have to send a text.”

 

“I’ll let them know.” Greg smiled, placing a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek before heading into the crowd. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared....

“Thank you so much! This was the best night I’ve ever had!”

 

Greg grinned when Amelia hugged Sherlock tightly, seeing the surprise in Sherlock’s eyes as he gently patted Amelia’s back. They’d decided to go home with them after Greg had found them on the dancefloor and now they were all in the lobby, waiting to get their coats at the vestiaire. The line wasn’t that long but Greg heard some people grumble in front of them as the girl behind the desk did her best to find the coats as fast as possible. 

 

“I hope it doesn’t take too long, it’s so cold here.” 

 

“That’s what happens when you dance all night long.” Greg smiled at Amelia who couldn’t suppress a shiver as the exit door opened when a group of very loud women left the party. One of them couldn’t stand straight without the help of her friends and Greg heard people shouting demandingly before the door closed. 

 

“Are the press still outside?” Amelia asked Sherlock, rubbing her arms. 

 

“Of course they are. This late at night is the best chance to get compromising photos. Drunk celebrities always make the headlines.” 

 

“Good thing you’re not drunk then.” Greg winked, standing closer to Sherlock when the door opened again and the cold air reached them. Joan wrapped an arm around Amelia, rubbing her back firmly before whispering something in her ear. Finally, it was their turn and Greg let out a sigh of relief. Now that he knew they were going home, he felt how exhausted he was. His eyes were stinging from tiredness, his ears were starting to ring from the loud music and his shoulder was aching. It was something that had always bothered him after his accident when he was tired or when the weather was too cold. He rubbed the aching spot, yawning when Sherlock thanked the girl behind the desk and handed him his coat. Greg couldn’t suppress a smile when he saw the light blush on the girl's cheeks as she handed Sherlock his coat. 

 

“You looked just the same when you first met him, mister!” Amelia whispered in his ear as she passed them to get her coat, just loud enough for Sherlock to hear. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in amusement and Greg felt his face flush as he busied himself with closing his coat. 

 

“Let’s get you home, you look like you’re about to fall over.” 

 

“It’s way past your bedtime, isn’t it old man?” Amelia grinned, quickly putting on her coat and letting out a relieved sigh when she zipped it up. 

 

“Don’t be mean, Am. Greg’s not old.” Joan spoke up, putting on her gloves before linking her arm with Amelia’s. 

 

“It’s the hair.” Sherlock responded, trying to touch it when Greg let out a protesting sound. “No need to worry, Lestrade. It suits you, gives you a sense of sophistication and class.” 

 

“You are both the worst.” Greg grumbled, running a hand through his hair before putting on his scarf. He watched as Sherlock walked towards the exit, his long coat billowing behind him. 

 

_ So posh.  _

 

“You coming Lestrade? Or do I need to carry you outside?”

 

“Now that would make headlines.” Amelia quipped, Joan not able to suppress a laugh. 

 

The door opened and Greg was nearly blinded by all the flashing lights of the cameras. People screaming from all directions, asking Sherlock to turn their way. 

 

“Sherlock, right here! How does it feel to be best actor? What’s your next project going to be?”

 

Sherlock stopped to answer a few questions, keeping his answers to the point and short as he held Greg’s hand tightly. Amelia and Joan walked before them, the press not having any interest in them once they realize they weren’t celebrities. 

 

“How did you find the experience, DI Lestrade? It must be a real change from visiting crime scenes.” A young reporter asked, his nose red from waiting outside in the cold for hours. 

 

“It’s been amazing. Almost too surreal to be true.” Greg answered, squeezing Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock got the hint and started saying goodnight to the press, dragging Greg next to him as he pulled out his phone and set off a text. 

 

“Car will be here in about 5 seconds.” Sherlock whispered and Greg nodded, relieved that they were almost out of the craziness. He almost felt claustrophobic as the journalists were still screaming, cameras working at high speed to get every inch of Sherlock photographed. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that someone was coming towards them, pushing Amelia and Joan firmly out of the way, screaming something Greg couldn’t understand. Then the man held something in the air, it gleamed in the flashes of the camera. The moment Greg realized what it was he was too late, the gun going off in the air, the sound of the shot drowning out all the rest. 

He caught a glimpse of Sherlock’s coat and scarf and then he was knocked on the ground, stars in front of his eyes as pain spread from his head to the rest of his body. People were screaming, cameras were flashing and he heard Amelia’s voice above it all. 

 

“CALL AN AMBULANCE!” 

 

**\----------------------**

 

“Sir, you have to understand-”

 

“I need to see him right now. He- he needs me to be there. Please, just-” Greg’s hands were shaking as he clung to the desk. His head was throbbing, eyes stinging because of the bright lights at the hospital. A nurse came next to him, trying to get him to sit down but Greg shook his head, batting the man’s hand away. 

 

“Sir, we need to check if you’re alright. You’re bleeding-” 

 

“It’s not my blood! Just, just let me see Sherlock! He needs me.” Greg heard the fear in his voice as he pleaded with them to let him inside. He balled his hands into fists, almost at the breaking point when a familiar voice filled the air. 

 

“Detective Inspector.” 

 

“Mycroft!” Greg ran to the man, taking his arm as he started rambling. “You need to talk to them, I need to see him. Sherlock jumped in front of me, I couldn’t stop it. I- I passed out. They brought us here and now they won’t let me see him.  It’s been over an hour and they aren’t telling me anything!” Greg raised his voice, shooting a desperate and angry glare at the woman behind the reception desk. 

 

“Mycroft, he- What if he- Where have you been?” Greg gave Mycroft a shove, fear and worry transforming into anger as Mycroft stood there. “You told him not to go. Why didn’t you stop him? Now he’s shot and what if- what if-”

 

“No,” Mycroft stopped him, expression calm as he took Greg in, eyebrow raised when he noticed the blood on Greg’s coat. “You need to let the nurses do their work, Greg.” 

 

“It’s not my blood, I’m-”

 

“Even so,” Mycroft interrupted, placing a hand on Greg’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. “They need to confirm that. Let them do their jobs, Greg. I’ll take care of the rest. Your friend and her partner are still at the scene. They are working with your team and mine to find the shooter. They’ll update me as soon as something changes.”

 

Mycroft guided Greg to a nearby chair before gesturing to the nurses to come closer. Greg grudgingly let them check his vitals, fear making it hard for him to breath or think straight. He’d not even seen the threat before it had been too late, Sherlock jumping in front of him as the gun went off. 

 

“Do you feel nauseous?” The nurse asked, shining a light in Greg’s eyes that made him flinch. “Could be a concussion, we should keep you overnight just to be on the safe side.”

 

“Not going to happen.” Greg gritted out, standing up as Mycroft made his way back, his face not giving anything away. He pulled out his phone, sending of a series of texts and Greg’s stomach churned as he saw the smallest twitch near Mycroft’s mouth. 

 

“Sir, I strongly suggest you-”

 

“I think the Detective Inspector has made his wishes quite clear.” 

 

The nurse stopped speaking, not able to hide his irritation fast enough and for a second Greg felt sorry for the man. He was only trying to do his job after all. But there was no way Greg was about to sit in a hospital bed not knowing what was going on with Sherlock. 

 

“You’ll need to sign some forms then. I’ll bring them to you shortly.” The nurse left and Greg turned to face Mycroft, his heart beating a mile a minute. He’d been going over every possible outcome and it was slowly driving him mad. He didn’t know where the bullet had entered Sherlock’s body, if it had come out, what type of bullet it was, if it had been more than one and Greg had seen enough gunshot wounds to know they could do serious damage. 

 

“What did they say? They haven’t told me a damn thing!”

 

“They are almost done with the surgery. It seems my brother does have a guardian angel. He’ll need to stay in hospital for a few days but they are rather optimistic, no major organs were hit.”

 

“Thank god.” Greg’s knees buckled under him and he fell down in a chair, fighting to keep the tears from spilling. Mycroft sat down next to him after a moment and it was only now that Greg saw the lines around the man’s mouth and the bags under his eyes. 

 

“We’ll be able to see him in a short while, but he’ll be sleeping.” Mycroft rubbed his face and Greg felt a surge of guilt for the things he’d slung at the man moments before. This wasn’t Mycroft’s fault, nor the security team. The only one responsible was the person with the gun and Greg had an idea who that could be. He looked at Mycroft, running a hand through his hair before speaking up.

 

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have-”

 

“No need to apologize Greg. It’s a tense situation.” Mycroft’s phone startled both of them as it went off, sounding as loud as a police siren. Mycroft’s eyes went wide as he looked at the screen. “I need to take this.” 

 

“Yeah, sure-” But Mycroft didn’t hear him, already walking outside as he picked up the phone. Greg felt lost and alone as he sat there, not sure what to do with himself now that he knew Sherlock was alright. He looked down, seeing the blood on his coat and he swallowed a few times before getting up slowly, his head still feeling like a wrecking ball was throwing a party inside of it. He made it to the toilets, pulling off his coat and trying his best to get the blood out. As he watched the water turn red, running of his shaking fingers, he couldn't stop sobbing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, were you prepared?


	11. Chapter 11

A week later

 

“Why are we going in the wrong direction?” Greg asked, watching Sherlock as he turned his head, a small smile on his lips. It had been a week since he’d been shot and today he was finally able to go home. Greg looked out the car window, frown growing as they drove further from Sherlock’s flat with every minute. “Does your driver not know where you live?” 

 

“He knows perfectly well, Lestrade. We’re almost there. Don’t worry.” Greg huffed, letting Sherlock take his hand and interlace their fingers. He couldn’t help but cling to them tightly, blinking his eyes as he felt the lump in his throat. Last week had been the longest in Greg’s life, staying at the hospital for as long as he could, watching Sherlock sleep under the white, clean covers. He’d wanted to hug the man senseless when he’d finally opened his eyes, gratitude overwhelming him when Sherlock noticed him, a soft smile spreading across his mouth. 

 

“You’re an idiot.” Greg had whispered, taking Sherlock’s hand and placing a kiss on it. “You’re a total idiot.” 

 

“That’s the thanks I get for saving your life?” Sherlock had responded, smiling when Greg looked up at him, tears in his eyes. 

 

It had been a difficult week for both of them but now Sherlock was released for the hospital’s care, eager to go home and pick up his life. He’d been in the papers non-stop. Mycroft and his team couldn’t keep up with all the letters of sympathy that had poured in. Reporters had even tried to get inside the hospital, wanting a picture of Sherlock in his hospital bed. It was a good thing Greg hadn’t been there when they’d stopped a few reporters from entering. He didn’t know how he would have reacted to them. 

 

“We’re here. Thank you, Bruce.” Sherlock nodded his head as Bruce opened the door for him, taking a hold of Sherlock’s elbow when Sherlock let out a grunt in discomfort. Greg stepped out, looking at the unfamiliar street. Everything seemed quiet and normal, not a person in sight and Greg let out a breath of relief. At least they wouldn’t have to fight off the reporters. 

 

“Why are we here? I thought you couldn’t wait to get home?” Greg asked, the frown on his forehead growing when Bruce pulled out Sherlock’s luggage, placing it by the backdoor of the building. Sherlock gestured at Greg to come closer, placing a kiss on his lips before taking his hand and guiding him to the building. Greg waved absently at Bruce as he stepped back into the car and drove away. 

 

“Let me do that.” Greg scowled when Sherlock leaned forward to take his luggage, letting out another grunt. He was in the clear, but it would take some time for his body to fully recover. Sherlock pulled out a key, opening the back door for them and Greg followed him inside, still not sure about what was going on. They walked up the stairs, Greg supporting Sherlock and then another key appeared in Sherlock’s hands, opening a black door with the number  221b in the middle of it. 

 

“Lestrade, welcome to my new flat.” Sherlock smiled as he swung the door open, gesturing to Greg to go inside. Greg’s mouth fell open as he stepped into a large sitting room, complete with a fireplace and a mantelpiece. Greg noticed the skull on the right side corner before his eyes went over the rest of the space. He took in the furniture, the books, the papers lying around almost everywhere. It seemed like a mess but it also screamed Sherlock in every way. He walked further inside, placing Sherlock's luggage on the floor as he heard him close the door behind them. There was a kitchen connected to the sitting room, containing a large dining table that was filled with all kinds of stuff Greg couldn’t even name. He walked around the table, coming back to the living room to see Sherlock stand in the middle of it, nervousness in his eyes. 

 

“What do you think? The bedroom is right there, as is the bathroom.” Sherlock pointed to a closed door on his right. 

 

“I, this is-” Greg stopped, licking his lips as his eyes went over the space again. “It’s beautiful. Very you. But why-”

 

“Why did I move here?” Sherlock asked, taking a step closer to Greg as he nodded. “It turns out that theimprobableone knew where I lived all along. They found photos and blueprints of the building, complete with a list of all the security cameras and emergency exits.” 

 

“But they caught him. He’s no longer a threat to you.” Greg let Sherlock guide him to the sofa, sitting down in it as Sherlock went to the kitchen. He heard the clattering of cups and plates and a moment later Sherlock was back with a tray filled with tea and what looked like homemade biscuits.

 

“You should rest, Sherlock. I can-”

 

“It’s fine, Greg. Stop worrying.” Sherlock smiled, giving Greg a long kiss when he sat down. Greg leaned into it, his fingers running through Sherlock's curls, letting out a soft moan as their tongues connected. He’d missed him so much. 

 

“I didn’t feel comfortable staying there after I learned about it. Mycroft showed me some photos of theimprobableone’s home. It was filled with photos of me. Not just me, photos of Mycroft and Anthea, you, Amelia, Joan. Everyone that meant something to me, he had been watching.” Sherlock swallowed and Greg could feel Sherlock’s fingers tremble as he spoke. 

 

“Hey, it’s all over now. They caught him and he’s never getting out of prison.” Greg kisses Sherlock, stroking his cheek, feeling some of the tension ease away. It had only taken them 2 days to find the shooter. Someone had noticed a logo on the shooter’s sleeve and then it had only been a matter of hours to go through some databases and double check information. Theimprobableone turned out to be a man known as Richard Brook. A not-so-successful actor who couldn’t tell the difference between real life and one of the shows he’d played in. For some reason, his frustration and anger over losing his job had transferred over to Sherlock. Convinced that they were meant to be together and that Sherlock was his way to get back in the spotlight. 

 

“With all the evidence they found at his flat, it’s clear he’s the shooter. They even found the gun in the alley behind his building. Not the smartest move to make.” Greg took a sip from his tea, eyes going over Sherlock’s new flat. He felt instantly at home there, more so than Sherlock’s previous flat. 

 

“I like it here. As I said, it screams you, and your BAFTA award looks great on this mantelpiece too.” 

 

“I’m glad you like it cause-” Sherlock stopped, biting his lip before reaching inside his pants pocket and taking out a set of keys, holding them in the air tentatively for a few seconds. 

 

“After all that’s happened I- Well, I-” Sherlock stopped again, gnawing at his lower lip before taking a breath and spilling the words out. “I’d like you to move in with me.”

 

“You-” Greg blinked, looking at the keys Sherlock was still holding in his hands. His heart leaped when Sherlock nodded, his expression genuine and Greg slowly started to smile, feeling like his heart would explode. “Yes, yes, I’d love to move in with you.”

 

“Really?” Sherlock asked, small frown on his forehead and Greg leaned forward, nearly crushing their mouths together, keys falling to the ground as Greg covered Sherlock’s body with his own. They were both panting and achingly hard by the time Greg pulled back, taking the keys off the floor. 

 

“I want nothing more than to spend my life with you, Sherlock Holmes. This week has made it very clear how much you mean to me and I, I love you, Sherlock. I’m in love with you. Of course, I want to move in with you.”

 

“You know it won’t be easy, right? The press will still be there, maybe some crazy fans,...” Sherlock brushed Greg’s cheek, interlacing their fingers. 

 

“I can handle them. Together we can handle them.” Greg smiled, his body feeling on fire as Sherlock looked into his eyes. Who would have known visiting a simple tv show convention would have changed his life so much? Greg squeezed Sherlock’s hand, a wicked smile on his face as he whispered near Sherlock’s ear. 

 

“I think it’s time you showed me the bedroom. Don’t you?”

 

The end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have come to the end of my self-indulgent Convention fic story! I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know if you did. What was your favorite scene or line or character? 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: writingfanficsfan.tumblr.com
> 
> A big THANK YOU to my beta Bel. You make my stories that much better! You can find Bel on Tumblr too: http://beltainefaerie.tumblr.com/
> 
> See you in the next story!


End file.
